Then she spoke as follows: “I should like the Duke to buy them for me;
so I beg you, my dear Benvenuto, to praise them to him as highly as you
can.” At these words I disclosed my mind to the Duchess with all the
respect I could, and answered: “My lady, I thought this necklace of
pearls belonged already to your most illus trious Excellency. Now that I
am aware you have not yet acquired them, it is right, nay, more, it is
my duty to utter what I might otherwise have refrained from saying,
namely, that my mature professional experience enables me to detect very
grave faults in the pearls, and for this reason I could never advise
your Excellency to purchase them.” She replied: “The merchant offers
them for six thousand crowns; and were it not for some of those trifling
defects you speak of, the rope would be worth over twelve thousand.” To
this I replied, that “even were the necklace of quite flawless quality,
I could not advise any one to bid up to five thousand crowns for it; for
pearls are not gems; pearls are but fishes’ bones, which in the course
of time must lose their freshness. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and
sapphires, on the contrary, never grow old; these four are precious
stones, and these it is quite right to purchase.” When I had thus
spoken, the Duchess showed some signs of irritation, and exclaimed: “I
have a mind to possess these pearls; so, prithee, take them to the Duke,
and praise them up to the skies; even if you have to use some words
beyond the bounds of truth, speak them to do me service; it will be well
for you!”
I have always been the greatest friend of truth and foe of lies: yet
compelled by necessity, unwilling to lose the favour of so great a
princess, I took those confounded pearls sorely against my inclination,
and went with them over to the other room, whither the Duke had
withdrawn. No sooner did he set eyes upon me than he cried: “O
Benvenuto! what are you about here?” I uncovered the pearls and said:
“My lord, I am come to show you a most splendid necklace of pearls, of
the rarest quality, and truly worthy of your Excellency; I do not
believe it would be possible to put together eighty pearls which could
show better than these do in a necklace. My counsel therefore is, that
you should buy them, for they are in good sooth miraculous.” He
responded on the instant: “I do not choose to buy them; they are not
pearls of the quality and goodness you affirm; I have seen the necklace,
and they do not please me.” Then I added: “Pardon me, prince! These
pearls exceed in rarity and beauty any which were ever brought together
for a necklace.” The Duchess had risen, and was standing behind a door
listening to all I said. Well, when I had praised the pearls a
thousandfold more warmly than I have described above, the Duke turned
towards me with a kindly look, and said. “O my dear Benvenuto, I know
that you have an excellent judgment in these matters. If the pearls are
as rare as you certify, I should not hesitate about their purchase,
partly to gratify the Duchess, and partly to possess them, seeing I have
always need of such things, not so much for her Grace, as for the
various uses of my sons and daughters.” When I heard him speak thus,
having once begun to tell fibs, I stuck to them with even greater
boldness; I gave all the colour of truth I could to my lies, confiding
in the promise of the Duchess to help me at the time of need. More than
two hundred crowns were to be my commission on the bargain, and the
Duchess had intimated that I should receive so much; but I was firmly
resolved not to touch a farthing, in order to secure my credit, and
convince the Duke I was not prompted by avarice. Once more his
Excellency began to address me with the greatest courtesy: “I know that
you are consummate judge of these things; therefore, if you are the
honest man I always thought you, tell me now the truth.” Thereat I
flushed up to my eyes, which at the same time filled with tears, and
said to him: “My lord, if I tell your most illustrious Excellency the
truth, I shall make a mortal foe of the Duchess; this will oblige me to
depart from Florence, and my enemies will begin at once to pour contempt
upon my Perseus, which I have announced as a masterpiece to the most
noble school of your illustrious Excellency. Such being the case, I
recommend myself to your most illustrious Excellency.”
LXXXIV
THE DUKE was now aware that all my previous speeches had been, as it
were, forced out of me. So he rejoined: “If you have confidence in me,
you need not stand in fear of anything whatever.” I recommenced: “Alas!
my lord, what can prevent this coming to the ears of the Duchess?” The
Duke lifted his hand in sign of troth-pledge, [1] and exclaimed: “Be
assured that what you say will be buried in a diamond casket!” To this
engagement upon honour I replied by telling the truth according to my
judgment, namely, that the pearls were not worth above two thousand
crowns. The Duchess, thinking we had stopped talking, for we now were
speaking in as low a voice as possible, came forward, and began as
follows: “My lord, do me, the favour to purchase this necklace, because
I have set my heart on them, and your Benvenuto here has said he never
saw a finer row of pearls.” The Duke replied: “I do not choose to buy
them.” “Why, my lord, will not your Excellency gratify me by buying
them?” “Because I do not care to throw my money out of the window.” The
Duchess recommenced: “What do you mean by throwing your money away, when
Benvenuto, in whom you place such well-merited confidence, has told me
that they would be cheap at over three thousand crowns?” Then the Duke
said; “My lady! my Benvenuto here has told me that, if I purchase this
necklace, I shall be throwing my money away, inasmuch as the pearls are
neither round nor well-matched, and some of them are quite faded. To
prove that this is so, look here! look there! consider this one and then
that. The necklace is not the sort of thing for me.” At these words the
Duchess cast a glance of bitter spite at me, and retired with a
threatening nod of her head in my direction. I felt tempted to pack off
at once and bid farewell to Italy. Yet my Perseus being all but
finished, I did not like to leave without exposing it to public view.
But I ask every one to consider in what a grievous plight I found myself!
The Duke had given orders to his porters in my presence, that if I
appeared at the palace, they should always admit me through his
apartments to the place where he might happen to be. The Duchess
commanded the same men, whenever I showed my face at that palace, to
drive me from its gates. Accordingly, no sooner did I present myself,
than these fellows left their doors and bade me begone; at the same time
they took good care lest the Duke should perceive what they were after;
for if he caught sight of me before those wretches, he either called me,
or beckoned to me to advance.
At this juncture the Duchess sent for Bernardone, the broker, of whom
she had so often complained to me, abusing his good-for-nothingness and
utter worthlessness. She now confided in him as she had previously done
in me. He replied: “My princess, leave the matter in my hands.” Then the
rascal presented himself before the Duke with that necklace in his
hands. No sooner did the Duke set eyes on him than he bade him begone.
But the rogue lifted his big ugly voice, which sounded like the braying
of an ass through his huge nose, and spoke to this effect: “Ah! my dear
lord, for Heaven’s sake buy this necklace for the poor Duchess, who is
dying to have it, and cannot indeed live without it.” The fellow poured
forth so much of this stupid nonsensical stuff that the Duke’s patience
was exhausted, and he cried: “Oh, get away with you, or blow your chaps
out till I smack them!” The knave knew very well what he was after; for
if by blowing out his cheeks or singing 'La Bella Frances-china,' [2] he
could bring the Duke to make that purchase, then he gained the good
grace of the Duchess, and to boot his own commission, which rose to some
hundreds of crowns. Consequently he did blow out his chaps. The Duke
smacked them with several hearty boxes, and, in order to get rid of him,
struck rather harder than his wont was. The sound blows upon his cheeks
not only reddened them above their natural purple, but also brought
tears into his eyes. All the same, while smarting, he began to cry: “Lo!
my lord, a faithful servant of his prince, who tries to act rightly, and
is willing to put up with any sort of bad treatment, provided only that
poor lady have her heart’s desire!” The Duke tired of the ribald fellow,
either to recompense the cuffs which he had dealt him, or for the
Duchess’ sake, whom he was ever most inclined to gratify, cried out:
“Get away with you, with God’s curse on you! Go, make the bargain; I am
willing to do what my lady Duchess wishes.”
From this incident we may learn to know how evil Fortune exerts her rage
against a poor right-minded man, and how the strumpet Luck can help a
miserable rascal. I lost the good graces of the Duchess once and for
ever, and thereby went close to having the Duke’s protection taken from
me. He acquired that thumping fee for his commission, and to boot their
favour. Thus it will not serve us in this world to be merely men of
honesty and talent.
Note 1. 'Alzo la fede.'
Note 2. A popular ballad of the time.
LXXXV
ABOUT this time the war of Siena broke out, [1] and the Duke, wishing to
fortify Florence, distributed the gates among his architects and
sculptors. I received the Prato gate and the little one of Arno, which
is on the way to the mills. The Cavaliere Bandinello got the gate of San
Friano; Pasqualino d’Ancona, the gate at San Pier Gattolini; Giulian di
Baccio d’Agnolo, the wood-carver, had the gate of San Giorgio;
Particino, the wood-carver, had the gate of Santo Niccolo; Francesco da
San Gallo, the sculptor, called Il Margolla, got the gate of Santa
Croce; and Giovan Battista, surnamed Il Tasso, the gate Pinti. [2] Other
bastions and gates were assigned to divers engineers, whose names I do
not recollect, nor indeed am I concerned with them. The Duke, who
certainly was at all times a man of great ability, went round the city
himself upon a tour of inspection, and when he had made his mind up, he
sent for Lattanzio Gorini, one of his paymasters. Now this man was to
some extent an amateur of military architecture; so his Excellency
commissioned him to make designs for the fortifications of the gates,
and sent each of us his own gate drawn according to the plan. After
examining the plan for mine, and perceiving that it was very incorrect
in many details, I took it and went immediately to the Duke. When I
tried to point out these defects, the Duke interrupted me and exclaimed
with fury: “Benvenuto, I will give way to you upon the point of
statuary, but in this art of fortification I choose that you should cede
to me. So carry out the design which I have given you.” To these brave
words I answered as gently as I could, and said: “My lord, your most
illustrious Excellency has taught me something even in my own fine art
of statuary, inasmuch as we have always exchanged ideas upon that
subject; I beg you then to deign to listen to me upon this matter of
your fortifications, which is far more important than making statues. If
I am permitted to discuss it also with your Excellency, you will be
better able to teach me how I have to serve you.” This courteous speech
of mine induced him to discuss the plans with me; and when I had clearly
demonstrated that they were not conceived on a right method, he said:
“Go, then, and make a design yourself, and I will see if it satisfies
me.” Accordingly, I made two designs according to the right principles
for fortifying those two gates, and took them to him; and when he
distinguished the true from the false system, he exclaimed good
humouredly: “Go and do it in your own way, for I am content to have it
so.” I set to work then with the greatest diligence.
Note 1. In the year 1552, when Piero Strozzi acted as general for the
French King, Henri II., against the Spaniards. The war ended in the
capitulation of Siena in 1555. In 1557 it was ceded by Philip II. to
Cosimo de’ Medici.
Note 2. These artists, with the exception of pasqualino, are all known
to us in the conditions described by Cellini. Francesco da San Gallo was
the son of Giuliano, and nephew of Antonio da San Gallo.
LXXXVI
THERE was on guard at the gate of Prato a certain Lombard captain; he
was a truculent and stalwart fellow, of incredibly coarse speech, whose
presumption matched his utter ignorance. This man began at once to ask
me what I was about there. I politely exhibited my drawings, and took
infinite pains to make him understand my purpose. The rude brute kept
rolling his head, and turning first to one side and then to the other,
shifting himself upon his legs, and twirling his enormous moustachios;
then he drew his cap down over his eyes and roared out: “Zounds! deuce
take it! I can make nothing of this rigmarole.” At last the animal
became so tiresome that I said: “Leave it then to me, who do understand
it,” and turned my shoulders to go about my business. At this he began
to threaten me with his head, and, setting his left hand on the pommel
of his sword, tilted the point up, and exclaimed: “Hullo, my master! you
want perhaps to make me cross blades with you?” I faced round in great
fury, for the man had stirred my blood, and cried out: “It would be less
trouble to run you through the body than to build the bastion of this
gate.” In an instant we both set hands to our swords, without quite
drawing; for a number of honest folk, citizens of Florence, and others
of them courtiers, came running up. The greater part of them rated the
captain, telling him that he was in the wrong, that I was a man to give
him back as good as I got, and that if this came to the Duke’s ears, it
would be the worse for him. Accordingly he went off on his own business,
and I began with my bastion.
After setting things in order there, I proceeded to the other little
gate of Arno, where I found a captain from Cesena, the most polite,
well-mannered man I ever knew in that profession. He had the air of a
gentle young lady, but at need he could prove himself one of the boldest
and bloodiest fighters in the world. This agreeable gentleman observed
me so attentively that he made me bashful and self-conscious; and seeing
that he wanted to understand what I was doing, I courteously explained
my plans. Suffice it to say, that we vied with each other in civilities,
which made me do far better with this bastion than with the other.
I had nearly finished the two bastions when an inroad of Piero Strozzi’s
people struck such terror into the countryfolk of Prato that they began
to leave it in a body, and all their carts, laden with the household
goods of each family, came crowding into the city. The number of them
was so enormous, cart jostling with cart, and the confusion was so
great, that I told the guards to look out lest the same misadventure
should happen at this gate as had occurred at the gates of Turin; for if
we had once cause to lower the portcullis, it would not be able to
perform its functions, but must inevitably stick suspended upon one of
the waggons. When that big brute of a captain heard these words, he
replied with insults, and I retorted in the same tone. We were on the
point of coming to a far worse quarrel than before. However, the folk
kept us asunder; and when I had finished my bastions, I touched some
score of crowns, which I had not expected, and which were uncommonly
welcome. So I returned with a blithe heart to finish my Perseus.
LXXXVII
DURING those days some antiquities had been discovered in the country
round Arezzo. Among them was the Chimæra, that bronze lion which is to
be seen in the rooms adjacent to the great hall of the palace. [1]
Together with the Chimæra a number of little statuettes, likewise in
bronze, had been brought to light; they were covered with earth and
rust, and each of them lacked either head or hands or feet. The Duke
amused his leisure hours by cleaning up these statuettes himself with
certain little chisels used by goldsmiths. It happened on one occasion
that I had to speak on business to his Excellency; and while we were
talking, he reached me a little hammer, with which I struck the chisels
the Duke held, and so the figures were disengaged from their earth and
rust. In this way we passed several evenings, and then the Duke
commissioned me to restore the statuettes. He took so much pleasure in
these trifles that he made me work by day also, and if I delayed coming,
he used to send for me. I very often submitted to his Excellency that if
I left my Perseus in the daytime, several bad consequences would ensue.
The first of these, which caused me the greatest anxiety, was that,
seeing me spend so long a time upon my statue, the Duke himself might
get disgusted; which indeed did afterwards happen. The other was that I
had several journeymen who in my absence were up to two kinds of
mischief; first, they spoilt my piece, and then they did as little work
as possible. These arguments made his Excellency consent that I should
only go to the palace after twenty-four o’clock.
I had now conciliated the affection of his Excellency to such an extent,
that every evening when I came to him he treated me with greater
kindness. About this time the new apartments were built toward the
lions; [2] the Duke then wishing to be able to retire into a less public
part of the palace, fitted up for himself a little chamber in these new
lodgings, and ordered me approach to it by a private passage. I had to
pass through his wardrobe, then across the stage of the great hall, and
afterwards through certain little dark galleries and cabinets. The
Duchess, however, after a few days, deprived me of this means of access
by having all the doors upon the path I had to traverse locked up. The
consequence was that every evening when I arrived at the palace, I had
to wait a long while, because the Duchess occupied the cabinets for her
personal necessities. [3] Her habit of body was unhealthy, and so I
never came without incommoding her. This and other causes made her hate
the very sight of me. However, nothwithstanding great discomforts and
daily annoyances, I persevered in going. The Duke’s orders, meanwhile,
were so precise, that no sooner did I knock at those doors, than they
were immediately opened, and I was allowed to pass freely where I chose.
The consequence was that occasionally, while walking noiselessly and
unexpectedly through the private rooms, I came upon the Duchess at a
highly inconvenient moment. Bursting then into such a furious storm of
rage that I was frightened, she cried out: “When will you ever finish
mending up those statuettes? Upon my word, this perpetual going and
coming of yours has grown to be too great a nuisance.” I replied as
gently as I could: “My lady and sole mistress, I have no other desire
than to serve you loyally and with the strictest obedience. This work to
which the Duke has put me will last several months; so tell me, most
illustrious Excellency, whether you wish me not to come here any more.
In that case I will not come, whoever calls me; nay, should the Duke
himself send for me, I shall reply that I am ill, and by no means will I
intrude again.” To this speech she made answer: “I do not bid you not to
come, nor do I bid you to disobey the Duke; but I repeat that your work
seems to me as though it would never be finished.”
Whether the Duke heard something of this encounter, or whatever the
cause was, he began again as usual. Toward twenty-four o’clock he sent
for me; and his messenger always spoke to this effect: “Take good care,
and do not fail to come, for the Duke is waiting for you.” In this way I
continued, always with the same inconveniences, to put in an appearance
on several successive evenings. Upon one occasion among others, arriving
in my customary way, the Duke, who had probably been talking with the
Duchess about private matters, turned upon me in a furious anger. I was
terrified, and wanted to retire. But he called out: “Come in, friend
Benvenuto; go to your affairs; I will rejoin you in a few moments.”
While I was passing onward, Don Garzia, then quite a little fellow,
plucked me by the cape, and played with me as prettily as such a child
could do. The Duke looked up delighted, and exclaimed: “What pleasant
and friendly terms my boys are on with you!”
Note 1. Now in the Uffizzi.
Note 2. Lions from a very early period had always been kept in part of
the Palazzo Vecchio.
Note 3. 'Alle sue comodita.'
LXXXVIII
WHILE I was working at these bagatelles, the Prince, and Don Giovanni,
and Don Arnando, and Don Garzia kept always hovering around me, teasing
me whenever the Duke’s eyes were turned. [1] I begged them for mercy’s
sake to hold their peace. They answered: “That we cannot do.” I told
them: “What one cannot is required of no one! So have your will! Along
with you!” At this both Duke and Duchess burst out laughing.
Another evening, after I had finished the small bronze figures which are
wrought into the pedestal of Perseus, that is to say, the Jupiter,
Mercury, Minerva, and Danæ, with the little Perseus seated at his
mother’s feet, I had them carried into the room where I was wont to
work, and arranged them in a row, raised somewhat above the line of
vision, so that they produced a magnificent effect. The Duke heard of
this, and made his entrance sooner than usual. It seems that the person
who informed his Excellency praised them above their merit, using terms
like “far superior to the ancients,” and so forth; wherefore the Duke
came talking pleasantly with the Duchess about my doings. I rose at once
and went to meet them. With his fine and truly princely manner he
received me, lifting his right hand, in which he held as superb a
pear-graft as could possibly be seen. “Take it, my Benvenuto!” he
exclaimed; “plant this pear in your garden.” To these words I replied
with a delighted gesture: “O my lord, does your most illustrious
Excellency really mean that I should plant it in the garden of my house?
“Yes,” he said, “in the garden of the house which belongs to you. Have
you understood me?” I thanked his Excellency, and the Duchess in like
manner, with the best politeness I could use.
After this they both took seats in front of the statues, and for more
than two hours went on talking about nothing but the beauties of the
work. The Duchess was wrought up to such an enthusiasm that she cried
out: “I do not like to let those exquisite figures be wasted on the
pedestal down there in the piazza, where they will run the risk of being
injured. I would much rather have you fix them in one of my apartments,
where they will be preserved with the respect due to their singular
artistic qualities.” I opposed this plan with many forcible arguments;
but when I saw that she was determined I should not place them on the
pedestal where they now stand, I waited till next day, and went to the
palace about twenty-two o’clock. Ascertaining that the Duke and Duchess
were out riding, and having already prepared the pedestal, I had the
statues carried down, and soldered them with lead into their proper
niches. Oh, when the Duchess knew of this, how angry she was! Had it not
been for the Duke, who manfully defended me, I should have paid dearly
for my daring. Her indignation about the pearls, and now again about
this matter of the statues, made her so contrive that the Duke abandoned
his amusements in our workshop. Consequently I went there no more, and
was met again with the same obstructions as formerly whenever I wanted
to gain access to the palace.
Note 1. The Prince was Don Francesco, then aged twelve; Don Giovanni was
ten, Don Garzia was six, and Don Ferdinando four.
LXXXIX
I RETURNED to the Loggia, [1] whither my Perseus had already been
brought, and went on putting the last touches to my work, under the old
difficulties always; that is to say, lack of money, and a hundred
untoward accidents, the half of which would have cowed a man armed with
adamant.
However, I pursued my course as usual; and one morning, after I had
heard mass at San Piero Scheraggio, that brute Bernardone, broker,
worthless goldsmith, and by the Duke’s grace purveyor to the mint,
passed by me. No sooner had he got outside the church than the dirty pig
let fly four cracks which might have been heard from San Miniato. I
cried: “Yah! pig, poltroon, donkey! is that the noise your filthy
talents make?” and ran off for a cudgel. He took refuge on the instant
in the mint; while I stationed myself inside my housedoor, which I left
ajar, setting a boy at watch upon the street to warn me when the pig
should leave the mint. After waiting some time, I grew tired, and my
heat cooled. Reflecting, then, that blows are not dealt by contract, and
that some disaster might ensue, I resolved to wreak my vengeance by
another method. The incident took place about the feast of our San
Giovanni, one or two days before; so I composed four verses, and stuck
them up in an angle of the church where people go to ease themselves.
The verses ran as follows:--
“Here lieth Bernardone, ass and pig,
Spy, broker, thief, in whom Pandora planted
All her worst evils, and from thence transplanted
Into that brute Buaccio’s carcass big.” 2
Both the incident and the verses went the round of the palace, giving
the Duke and Duchess much amusement. But, before the man himself knew
what I had been up to, crowds of people stopped to read the lines and
laughed immoderately at them. Since they were looking towards the mint
and fixing their eyes on Bernardone, his son, Maestro Baccio, taking
notice of their gestures, tore the paper down with fury. The elder bit
his thumb, shrieking threats out with that hideous voice of his, which
comes forth through his nose; indeed he made a brave defiance. 3
Note 1. That is, the Loggia de’ Lanzi, on the great piazza of Florence,
where Cellini’s statue still stands.
Note 2. If I understand the obscure lines of the original, Cellini
wanted to kill two birds with one stone by this epigram--both Bernardone
and his son Baccio. But by Buaccio he generally means Baccio Bandinelli.
Note 3. To bite the thumb at any one was, as students of our old drama
know, a sign of challenge or provocation.
XC
WHEN the Duke was informed that the whole of my work for the Perseus
could be exhibited as finished, he came one day to look at it. His
manner showed clearly that it gave him great satisfaction; but
afterwards he turned to some gentlemen attending him and said: “Although
this statue seems in our eyes a very fine piece, still it has yet to win
the favour of the people. Therefore, my Benvenuto, before you put the
very last touches on, I should like you, for my sake, to remove a part
of the scaffolding on the side of the piazza, some day toward noon, in
order that we may learn what folk think of it. There is no doubt that
when it is thrown open to space and light, it will look very differently
from what it does in this enclosure.” I replied with all humility to his
Excellency: “You must know, my lord, that it will make more than twice
as good a show. Oh, how is it that your most illustrious Excellency has
forgotten seeing it in the garden of my house? There, in that large
extent of space, it showed so bravely that Bandinello, coming through
the garden of the Innocents to look at it, was compelled, in spite of
his evil and malignant nature, to praise it, he who never praised aught
or any one in all his life! I perceive that your Excellency lends too
ready an ear to that fellow.” When I had done speaking, he smiled
ironically and a little angrily; yet he replied with great kindness: “Do
what I ask, my Benvenuto, just to please me.”
When the Duke had left, I gave orders to have the screen removed. Yet
some trifles of gold, varnish, and various other little finishings were
still wanting; wherefore I began to murmur and complain indignantly,
cursing the unhappy day which brought me to Florence. Too well I knew
already the great and irreparable sacrifice I made when I left France;
nor could I discover any reasonable ground for hope that I might prosper
in the future with my prince and patron. From the commencement to the
middle and the ending, everything that I had done had been performed to
my great disadvantage. Therefore, it was with deep ill-humour that I
disclosed my statue on the following day.
Now it pleased God that, on the instant of its exposure to view, a shout
of boundless enthusiasm went up in commendation of my work, which
consoled me not a little. The folk kept on attaching sonnets to the
posts of the door, which was protected with a curtain while I gave the
last touches to the statue. I believe that on the same day when I opened
it a few hours to the public, more than twenty were nailed up, all of
them overflowing with the highest panegyrics. Afterwards, when I once
more shut it off from view, every day brought sonnets, with Latin and
Greek verses; for the University of Pisa was then in vacation, and all
the doctors and scholars kept vying with each other who could praise it
best. But what gratified me most, and inspired me with most hope of the
Duke’s support, was that the artists, sculptors and painters alike,
entered into the same generous competition. I set the highest value on
the eulogies of that excellent painter Jacopo Pontormo, and still more
on those of his able pupil Bronzino, who was not satisfied with merely
publishing his verses, but sent them by his lad Sandrino’s hand to my
own house. [1] They spoke so generously of my performance, in that fine
style of his which is most exquisite, that this alone repaid me somewhat
for the pain of my long troubles. So then I closed the screen, and once
more set myself to finishing my statue.
Note 1. Jacopo Carrucci da Pantormo was now an old man. He died in 1558,
aged sixty-five years. Angelo Allori, called Il Bronzino, one of the
last fairly good Florentine painters, won considerable distinction as a
writer of burlesque poems. He died in 1571, aged sixty-nine years. We
possess his sonnets of the perseus.
XCI
THE GREAT compliments which this short inspection of my Perseus had
elicited from the noble school of Florence, though they were well known
to the Duke, did not prevent him from saying: “I am delighted that
Benvenuto has had this trifling satisfaction, which will spur him on to
the desired conclusion with more speed and diligence. Do not, however,
let him imagine that, when his Perseus shall be finally exposed to view
from all sides, folk in general will be so lavish of their praises. On
the contrary, I am afraid that all its defects will then be brought home
to him, and more will be detected than the statue really has. So let him
arm himself with patience.” These were precisely the words which
Bandinello had whispered in the Duke’s ears, citing the works of Andrea
del Verrocchio, who made that fine bronze of Christ and S. Thomas on the
front of Orsammichele; at the same time he referred to many other
statues, and dared even to attack the marvellous David of divine Michel
Agnolo Buonarroti, accusing it of only looking well if seen in front;
finally, he touched upon the multitude of sarcastic sonnets which were
called forth by his own Hercules and Cacus, and wound up with abusing
the people of Florence. Now the Duke, who was too much inclined to
credit his assertions, encouraged the fellow to speak thus, and thought
in his own heart that things would go as he had prophesied, because that
envious creature Bandinello never ceased insinuating malice. On one
occasion it happened that the gallows bird Bernardone, the broker, was
present at these conversations, and in support of Bandinello’s
calumnies, he said to the Duke: “You must remember, prince, that statues
on a large scale are quite a different dish of soup from little figures.
I do not refuse him the credit of being excellent at statuettes in
miniature. But you will soon see that he cannot succeed in that other
sphere of art.” To these vile suggestions he added many others of all
sorts, plying his spy’s office, and piling up a mountain of lies to boot.
XCII
NOW it pleased my glorious Lord and immortal God that at last I brought
the whole work to completion: and on a certain Thursday morning I
exposed it to the public gaze. [1] Immediately, before the sun was fully
in the heavens, there assembled such a multitude of people that no words
could describe them. All with one voice contended which should praise it
most. The Duke was stationed at a window low upon the first floor of the
palace, just above the entrance; there, half hidden, he heard everything
the folk were saying of my statue. After listening through several
hours, he rose so proud and happy in his heart that he turned to his
attendant, Messer Sforza, and exclaimed: “Sforza, go and seek out
Benvenuto; tell him from me that he has delighted me far more than I
expected: say too that I shall reward him in a way which will astonish
him; so bid him be of good courage.”
In due course, Messer Sforza discharged this glorious embassy, which
consoled me greatly. I passed a happy day, partly because of the Duke’s
message, and also because the folk kept pointing me out as something
marvellous and strange. Among the many who did so, were two gentlemen,
deputed by the Viceroy of Sicily [2] to our Duke on public business. Now
these two agreeable persons met me upon the piazza: I had been shown
them in passing, and now they made monstrous haste to catch me up; then,
with caps in hand, they uttered an oration so ceremonious, that it would
have been excessive for a Pope. I bowed, with every protestation of
humility. They meanwhile continued loading me with compliments, until at
last I prayed them, for kindness’ sake, to leave the piazza in my
company, because the folk were stopping and staring at me more than at
my Perseus. In the midst of all these ceremonies, they went so far as to
propose that I should come to Sicily, and offered to make terms which
should content me. They told me how Fra Giovan Agnolo de’ Servi [3] had
constructed a fountain for them, complete in all parts, and decorated
with a multitude of figures; but it was not in the same good style they
recognised in Perseus, and yet they had heaped riches on the man. I
would not suffer them to finish all their speeches, but answered: “You
give me much cause for wonder, seeking as you do to make me quit the
service of a prince who is the greatest patron of the arts that ever
lived; and I too here in my own birthplace, famous as the school of
every art and science! Oh, if my soul’s desire had been set on lucre, I
could have stayed in France, with that great monarch Francis, who gave
me a thousand golden crowns a year for board, and paid me in addition
the price of all my labour. In his service I gained more than four
thousand golden crowns the year.”
With these and such like words I cut their ceremonies short, thanking
them for the high praises they had bestowed upon me, which were indeed
the best reward that artists could receive for their labours. I told
them they had greatly stimulated my zeal, so that I hoped, after a few
years were passed, to exhibit another masterpiece, which I dared believe
would yield far truer satisfaction to our noble school of Florence. The
two gentlemen were eager to resume the thread of their complimentary
proposals, whereupon I, lifting my cap and making a profound bow, bade
them a polite farewell.
Note 1. April 27, 1554.
Note 2. Don Juan de Vega.
Note 3. Giovanni Angelo Montorsoli entered the Order of the Servites in
1530. This did not prevent him from plying his profession of sculptor.
The work above alluded to is the fountain at Messina.
XCIII
WHEN two more days had passed, and the chorus of praise was ever on the
increase, I resolved to go and present myself to the Duke, who said with
great good-humour: “My Benvenuto, you have satisfied and delighted me;
but I promise that I will reward you in such wise as will make you
wonder; and I tell you that I do not mean to delay beyond to-morrow.” On
hearing this most welcome assurance, I turned all the forces of my soul
and body to God, fervently offering up thanks to Him. At the same moment
I approached the Duke, and almost weeping for gladness, kissed his robe.
Then I added: “O my glorious prince, true and most generous lover of the
arts, and of those who exercise them! I entreat your most illustrious
Excellency to allow me eight days first to go and return thanks to God;
for I alone know what travail I have endured, and that my earnest faith
has moved Him to assist me. In gratitude for this and all other
marvellous mercies, I should like to travel eight days on pilgrimage,
continually thanking my immortal God, who never fails to help those who
call upon Him with sincerity.” The Duke then asked me where I wished to
go. I answered: “To-morrow I shall set out for Vallombrosa, thence to
Camaldoli and the Ermo, afterwards I shall proceed to the Bagni di Santa
Maria, and perhaps so far as Sestile, because I hear of fine antiquities
to be seen there. [1] Then I shall retrace my steps by San Francesco
della Vernia, and, still with thanks to God, return light-hearted to
your service.” The Duke replied at once with cheerful kindness: “Go and
come back again, for of a truth you please me; but do not forget to send
a couple of lines by way of memorandum, and leave the rest to me.”
I wrote four lines that very day, in which I thanked his Excellency for
expected favours, and gave these to Messer Sforza, who placed them in
the Duke’s hands. The latter took them, and then handed them to Messer
Sforza, remarking: “See that you put these lines each day where I can
see them; for if Benvenuto comes back and finds I have not despatched
his business, I think that he will murder me.” Thus laughing, his
Excellency asked to be reminded. Messer Sforza reported these precise
words to me on the same evening, laughing too and expressing wonder at
the great favour shown me by the Duke. He pleasantly added: “Go,
Benvenuto, and come again quickly, for indeed I am jealous of you.”
Note 1. The Ermo is more correctly Eremo, and Vernia is Alvernia.
XCIV
IN God’s name then I left Florence, continually singing psalms and
prayers in His honour upon all that journey. I enjoyed it extremely; for
the season was fine, in early summer, and the country through which I
travelled, and which I had never seen before, struck me as marvellously
beautiful. Now I had taken with me to serve as guide a young workman in
my employ, who came from Bagno, and was called Cesare. Thanks to him,
then, I received the kindest hospitality from his father and all his
family, among whom was an old man of more than seventy, extremely
pleasant in his conversation. He was Cesare’s uncle, a surgeon by
profession, and a dabbler in alchemy. This excellent person made me
observe that the Bagni contained mines of gold and silver, and showed me
many interesting objects in the neighbourhood; so that I enjoyed myself
as much as I have ever done.
One day, when we had become intimate and he could trust me, he spoke as
follows: “I must not omit to tell you a thought of mine, to which his
Excellency might with advantage pay attention. It is, that not far from
Camaldoli there lies a mountain pass so ill defended, that Piero Strozzi
could not only cross it without risk, but might also seize on Poppi [1]
unmolested.” Not satisfied with this description, he also took a sheet
of paper from his pouch, upon which the good old man had drawn the whole
country, so that the seriousness of the danger could be manifest upon
inspection of the map. I took the design and left Bagno at once,
travelling homeward as fast as I could by Prato Magno and San Francesco
della Vernia. On reaching Florence, I only stopped to draw off my
riding-boots, and hurried to the palace. Just opposite the Badia I met
the Duke, who was coming by the palace of the Podesta. When he saw me he
gave me a very gracious reception, and showing some surprise, exclaimed:
“Why have you come back so quickly; I did not expect you for eight days
at least.” I answered: “The service of your most illustrious Excellency
brings me back, else I should very willingly have stayed some few days
longer on my journey through that lovely country.” “Well, and what good
news have you?” said he. I answered: “Prince, I must talk to you about
things of the greatest importance which I have to disclose.” So I
followed him to the palace, and when we were there, he took me privately
into a chamber where we stayed a while alone together. I then unfolded
the whole matter and showed him the little map, with which he seemed to
be much gratified. When I told his Excellency that one ought to take
measures at once, he reflected for a little while and then said: “I may
inform you that we have agreed with the Duke of Urbino that he should
guard the pass; but do not speak about it.” Then he dismissed me with
great demonstrations of good-will, and I went home.
Note 1. A village in the Castenino. Piero Strozzi was at this time in
Valdichiana.
XCV
NEXT day I presented myself, and, after a few words of conversation, the
Duke addressed me cheerfully; “To-morrow, without fail, I mean to
despatch your business; set your mind at rest, then.” I, who felt sure
that he meant what he said, waited with great impatience for the morrow.
When the longed-for day arrived, I betook me to the palace; and as it
always happens that evil tidings travel faster than good news, Messer
Giacopo Guidi, [1] secretary to his Excellency, called me with his wry
mouth and haughty voice; drawing himself up as stiff as a poker, he
began to speak to this effect: “The Duke says he wants you to tell him
how much you ask for your Perseus.” I remained dumbfounded and
astonished; yet I quickly replied that it was not my custom to put
prices on my work, and that this was not what his Excellency had
promised me two days ago. The man raised his voice, and ordered me
expressly in the Duke’s name, under the penalty of his severe
displeasure, to say how much I wanted. Now I had hoped not only to gain
some handsome reward, trusting to the mighty signs of kindness shown me
by the Duke, but I had still more expected to secure the entire good
graces of his Excellency, seeing I never asked for anything, but only
for his favour. Accordingly, this wholly unexpected way of dealing with
me put me in a fury, and I was especially enraged by the manner which
that venomous toad assumed in discharging his commission. I exclaimed
that if the Duke gave me ten thousand crowns I should not be paid
enough, and that if I had ever thought things would come to this
haggling, I should not have settled in his service. Thereupon the surly
fellow began to abuse me, and I gave it him back again.
Upon the following day, when I paid my respects to the Duke, he beckoned
to me. I approached, and he exclaimed in anger: “Cities and great
palaces are built with ten thousands of ducats.” I rejoined: “Your
Excellency can find multitudes of men who are able to build you cities
and palaces, but you will not, perhaps, find one man in the world who
could make a second Perseus.” Then I took my leave without saying or
doing anything farther. A few days afterwards the Duchess sent for me,
and advised me to put my difference with the Duke into her hands, since
she thought she could conduct the business to my satisfaction. On
hearing these kindly words I replied that I had never asked any other
recompense for my labours than the good graces of the Duke, and that his
most illustrious Excellency had assured me of this; it was not needful
that I should place in their Excellencies’ hands what I had always
frankly left to them from the first days when I undertook their service.
I farther added that if his most illustrious Excellency gave me but a
'crazia,' [2] which is worth five farthings, for my work, I should
consider myself contented, provided only that his Excellency did not
deprive me of his favour. At these words the Duchess smiled a little and
said: “Benvenuto, you would do well to act as I advise you.” Then she
turned her back and left me. I thought it was my best policy to speak
with the humility I have above described; yet it turned out that I had
done the worst for myself, because, albeit she had harboured some angry
feelings toward me, she had in her a certain way of dealing which was
generous.
Note 1. It appears from a letter written by Guidi to Bandinelli that he
hated Cellini, whom he called 'pessimo mostro di natura.' Guidi was made
Bishop of Penna in 1561, and attended the Council of Trent.
Note 2. A small Tuscan coin.
XCVI
ABOUT that time I was very intimate with Girolamo degli Albizzi, [1]
commissary of the Duke’s militia. One day this friend said to me: “O
Benvenuto, it would not be a bad thing to put your little difference of
opinion with the Duke to rights; and I assure you that if you repose
confidence in me, I feel myself the man to settle matters. I know what I
am saying. The Duke is getting really angry, and you will come badly out
of the affair. Let this suffice; I am not at liberty to say all I know.”
Now, subsequently to that conversation with the Duchess, I had been told
by some one, possibly a rogue, that he had heard how the Duke said upon
some occasion which offered itself: “For less than two farthings I will
throw Perseus to the dogs, and so our differences will be ended.” This,
then, made me anxious, and induced me to entrust Girolamo degli Albizzi
with the negotiations, telling him anything would satisfy me provided I
retained the good graces of the Duke. That honest fellow was excellent
in all his dealings with soldiers, especially with the militia, who are
for the most part rustics; but he had no taste for statuary, and
therefore could not understand its conditions. Consequently, when he
spoke to the Duke, he began thus: “Prince, Benvenuto has placed himself
in my hands, and has begged me to recommend him to your Excellency.” The
Duke replied: “I too am willing to refer myself to you, and shall be
satisfied with your decision.” Thereupon Girolamo composed a letter,
with much skill and greatly to my honour, fixing the sum which the Duke
would have to pay me at 3500 golden crowns in gold; and this should not
be taken as my proper recompense for such a masterpiece, but only as a
kind of gratuity; enough to say that I was satisfied; with many other
phrases of like tenor, all of which implied the price which I have
mentioned.
The Duke signed this agreement as gladly as I took it sadly. When the
Duchess heard, she said: “It would have been better for that poor man if
he had placed himself in my hands; I could have got him five thousand
crowns in gold.” One day, when I went to the palace, she repeated these
same words to me in the presence of Messer Alamanno Salviati, [2] and
laughed at me a little, saying that I deserved my bad luck.
The Duke gave orders that I should be paid a hundred golden crowns in
gold per month, until the sum was discharged; and thus it ran for some
months. Afterwards, Messer Antonio de’ Nobili, who had to transact the
business, began to give me fifty, and sometimes later on he gave me
twenty-five, and sometimes nothing. Accordingly, when I saw that the
settlement was being thus deferred, I spoke good-humouredly to Messer
Antonio, and begged him to explain why he did not complete my payments.
He answered in a like tone of politeness; yet it struck me that he
exposed his own mind too much. Let the reader judge. He began by saying
that the sole reason why he could not go forward regularly with these
payments, was the scarcity of money at the palace; but he promised, when
cash came in, to discharge arrears. Then he added: “Oh heavens! if I did
not pay you, I should be an utter rogue.” I was somewhat surprised to
hear him speak in that way; yet I resolved to hope that he would pay me
when he had the power to do so. But when I observed that things went
quite the contrary way, and saw that I was being pillaged, I lost temper
with the man, and recalled to his memory hotly and in anger what he had
declared he would be if he did not pay me. However, he died; and five
hundred crowns are still owing to me at the present date, which is nigh
upon the end of 1566. [3] There was also a balance due upon my salary
which I thought would be forgotten, since three years had elapsed
without payment. But it so happened that the Duke fell ill of a serious
malady, remaining forty-eight hours without passing water. Finding that
the remedies of his physicians availed nothing, it is probable that he
betook himself to God, and therefore decreed the discharge of all debts
to his servants. I too was paid on this occasion, yet I never obtained
what still stood out upon my Perseus. |
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