Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini Vol 1 — Chapters 66-70

LXVI

IT happened one day, close on the hours of vespers, that I had to go at an unusual time for me from my house to my workshop; for I ought to say that the latter was in the Banchi, while I lived behind the Banchi, and went rarely to the shop; all my business there I left in the hands of my partner, Felice.

Having stayed a short while in the workshop, I remembered that I had to say something to Alessandro del Bene.

So I arose, and when I reached the Banchi, I met a man called Ser Benedetto, who was a great friend of mine.

He was a notary, born in Florence, son of a blind man who said prayers about the streets for alms, and a Sienese by race.

This Ser Benedetto had been very many years at Naples;

afterwards he had settled in Rome, where he transacted business for some Sienese merchants of the Chigi.

[1] My partner had over and over again asked him for some moneys which were due for certain little rings confided to Ser Benedetto.

That very day, meeting him in the Banchi, he demanded his money rather roughly, as his wont was.

Benedetto was walking with his masters, and they, annoyed by the interruption, scolded him sharply, saying they would be served by somebody else, in order not to have to listen to such barking.

Ser Benedetto did the best he could to excuse himself, swore that he had paid the goldsmith, and said he had no power to curb the rage of madmen.

The Sienese took his words ill, and dismissed him on the spot.

Leaving them, he ran like an arrow to my shop, probably to take revenge upon Felice.

It chanced that just in the middle of the street we met.

I, who had heard nothing of the matter, greeted him most kindly, according to my custom, to which courtesy he replied with insults.

Then what the sorcerer had said flashed all at once upon my mind; and bridling myself as well as I was able, in the way he bade me, I answered: “Good brother Benedetto, don’t fly into a rage with me, for I have done you no harm, nor do I know anything about these affairs of yours.

Please go and finish what you have to do with Felice.

He is quite capable of giving you a proper answer; but inasmuch as I know nothing about it, you are wrong to abuse me in this way, especially as you are well aware that I am not the man to put up with insults.

” He retorted that I knew everything, and that he was the man to make me bear a heavier load than that, and that Felice and I were two great rascals.

By this time a crowd had gathered round to hear the quarrel.

Provoked by his ugly words, I stooped and took up a lump of mud-for it had rained-and hurled it with a quick and unpremeditated movement at his face.

He ducked his head, so that the mud hit him in the middle of the skull.

There was a stone in it with several sharp angles, one of which striking him, he fell stunned like a dead man: whereupon all the bystanders, seeing the great quantity of blood, judged that he was really dead.

Note 1. The MS. has Figi; but this is probably a mistake of the amanuensis.

LXVII

WHILE he was still lying on the ground, and people were preparing to carry him away, Pompeo the jeweller passed by.

The Pope had sent for him to give orders about some jewels.

Seeing the fellow in such a miserable plight, he asked who had struck him; on which they told him: “Benvenuto did it, but the stupid creature brought it down upon himself.

” No sooner had Pompeo reached the Pope than he began to speak: “Most blessed Father, Benvenuto has this very moment murdered Tobbia; I saw it with my own eyes.

” On this the Pope in a fury ordered the Governor, who was in the presence, to take and hang me at once in the place where the homicide had been committed, adding that he must do all he could to catch me, and not appear again before him until he had hanged me.

When I saw the unfortunate Benedetto stretched upon the ground, I thought at once of the peril I was in, considering the power of my enemies, and what might ensue from this disaster.

Making off, I took refuge in the house of Messer Giovanni Gaddi, clerk of the Camera, with the intention of preparing as soon as possible to escape from Rome.

He, however, advised me not to be in such a hurry, for it might turn out perhaps that the evil was not so great as I imagined; and calling Messer Annibal Caro, who lived with him, bade him go for information.

While these arrangements were being made, A Roman gentleman appeared, who belonged to the household of Cardinal de’ Medici, and had been sent by him.

[1] Taking Messer Giovanni and me apart, he told us that the Cardinal had reported to him what the Pope said, and that there was no way of helping me out of the scrape; it would be best for me to shun the first fury of the storm by flight, and not to risk myself in any house in Rome.

Upon this gentleman’s departure, Messer Giovanni looked me in the face as though he were about to cry, and said: “Ah me!

Ah woe is me!

There is nothing I can do to aid you!

” I replied: “By God’s means, I shall aid myself alone; only I request you to put one of your horses at my disposition.

” They had already saddled a black Turkish horse, the finest and the best in Rome.

I mounted with an arquebuse upon the saddle-bow, wound up in readiness to fire, if need were.

[2] When I reached Ponte Sisto, I found the whole of the Bargello’s guard there, both horse and foot.

So, making a virtue of necessity, I put my horse boldly to a sharp trot, and with God’s grace, being somehow unperceived by them, passed freely through.

Then, with all the speed I could, I took the road to Palombara, a fief of my lord Giovanbatista Savello, whence I sent the horse back to Messer Giovanni, without, however, thinking it well to inform him where I was.

[3] Lord Giovanbatista, after very kindly entertaining me two days, advised me to remove and go toward Naples till the storm blew over.

So, providing me with company, he set me on the way to Naples.

While travelling, I met a sculptor of my acquaintance, who was going to San Germano to finish the tomb of Piero de’ Medici at Monte Cassino.

[4] His name was Solosmeo, and he gave me the news that on the very evening of the fray, Pope Clement sent one of his chamberlains to inquire how Tobbia was getting on.

Finding him at work, unharmed, and without even knowing anything about the matter, the messenger went back and told the Pope, who turned round to Pompeo and said: “You are a good-for-nothing rascal; but I promise you well that you have stirred a snake up which will sting you, and serve you right!

” Then he addressed himself to Cardinal de’ Medici, and commissioned him to look after me, adding that he should be very sorry to let me slip through his fingers.

And so Solosmeo and I went on our way singing toward Monte Cassino, intending to pursue our journey thence in company toward Naples.

Note 1. Ippolito de’ Medici was a Cardinal, much against his natural inclination.

When he went as Papal Legate to Hungary in 1532, he assumed the airs and style of a Condottiere.

His jealousy of his cousin Alessandro led to his untimely death by poison in 1535. Note 2. The gun was an 'arquebuso a ruola,' which had a wheel to cock it.

Note 3. A village in the Sabina, north of Tivoli.

Giov.

Battista Savelli, of a great Roman house, was a captain of cavalry in the Papal service after 1530. In 1540 he entered the service of Duke Cosimo, and died in 1553. Note 4. This sculptor was Antonio Solosmeo of Settignano.

The monument erected to Piero de’ Medici (drowned in the Garigliano, 1504) at Monte Cassino is by no means a brilliant piece of Florentine art.

Piero was the exiled son of Lorenzo the Magnificent; and the Medici, when they regained their principality, erected this monument to his memory, employing Antonio da San Gallo, Francesco da San Gallo and a Neapolitan, Matteo de’ Quaranta.

The work was begun in 1532. Solosmeo appears from this passage in Cellini to have taken the execution of it over.

LXVIII

WHEN Solosmeo had inspected his affairs at Monte Cassino, we resumed our journey; and having come within a mile of Naples, we were met by an innkeeper, who invited us to his house, and said he had been at Florence many years with Carlo Ginori; [1] adding, that if we put up at his inn, he would treat us most kindly, for the reason that we both were Florentines.

We told him frequently that we did not want to go to him.

However, he kept passing, sometimes in front and sometimes behind, perpetually repeating that he would have us stop at his hostelry.

When this began to bore me, I asked if he could tell me anything about a certain Sicilian woman called Beatrice, who had a beautiful daughter named Angelica, and both were courtesans.

Taking it into his head that I was jeering him, he cried out: “God send mischief to all courtesans and such as favour them!

” Then he set spurs to his horse, and made off as though he was resolved to leave us.

I felt some pleasure at having rid myself in so fair a manner of that ass of an innkeeper; and yet I was rather the loser than the gainer; for the great love I bore Angelica had come back to my mind, and while I was conversing, not without some lover’s sighs, upon this subject with Solosmeo, we saw the man returning to us at a gallop.

When he drew up, he said: “Two or perhaps three days ago a woman and a girl came back to a house in my neighbourhood; they had the names you mentioned, but whether they are Sicilians I cannot say.

” I answered: “Such power over me has that name of Angelica, that I am now determined to put up at your inn.

” We rode on all together with mine host into the town of Naples, and descended at his house.

Minutes seemed years to me till I had put my things in order, which I did in the twinkling of an eye; then I went to the house, which was not far from our inn, and found there my Angelica, who greeted me with infinite demonstrations of the most unbounded passion.

I stayed with her from evenfall until the following morning, and enjoyed such pleasure as I never had before or since; but while drinking deep of this delight, it occurred to my mind how exactly on that day the month expired, which had been prophesied within the necromantic circle by the devils.

So then let every man who enters into relation with those spirits weigh well the inestimable perils I have passed through!

Note 1. A Gonfalonier of the Republic in 1527. LXIX

I HAPPENED to have in my purse a diamond, which I showed about among the goldsmiths; and though I was but young, my reputation as an able artist was so well known even at Naples that they welcomed me most warmly.

Among others, I made acquaintance with a most excellent companion, a jeweller, Messer Domenico Fontana by name.

This worthy man left his shop for the three days that I spent in Naples, nor even quitted my company, but showed me many admirable monuments of antiquity in the city and its neigbourhood.

Moreover, he took me to pay my respects to the Viceroy of Naples, who had let him know that he should like to see me.

When I presented myself to his Excellency, he received me with much honour; [1] and while we were exchanging compliments, the diamond which I have mentioned caught his eye.

He made me show it him, and prayed me, if I parted with it, to give him the refusal.

Having taken back the stone, I offered it again to his Excellency, adding that the diamond and I were at his service.

Then he said that the diamond pleased him well, but that he should be much better pleased if I were to stay with him; he would make such terms with me as would cause me to feel satisfied.

We spoke many words of courtesy on both sides; and then coming to the merits of the diamond, his Excellency bade me without hesitation name the price at which I valued it.

Accordingly I said that it was worth exactly two hundred crowns.

He rejoined that in his opinion I had not overvalued it;

but that since I had set it, and he knew me for the first artist in the world, it would not make the same effect when mounted by another hand.

To this I said that I had not set the stone, and that it was not well set; its brilliancy was due to its own excellence; and that if I were to mount it afresh, I could make it show far better than it did.

Then I put my thumb-nail to the angels of its facets, took it from the ring, cleaned it up a little, and handed it to the Viceroy.

Delighted and astonished, he wrote me out a cheque [2] for the two hundred crowns I had demanded.

When I returned to my lodging, I found letters from the Cardinal de’ Medici, in which he told me to come back post-haste to Rome, and to dismount without delay at the palace of his most reverend lordship.

I

read the letter to my Angelica, who begged me with tears of affection either to remain in Naples or to take her with me.

I replied that if she was disposed to come with me, I would give up to her keeping the two hundred ducats I had received from the Viceroy.

Her mother perceiving us in this close conversation, drew nigh and said: “Benvenuto, if you want to take my daughter to Rome, leave me a sum of fifteen ducats, to pay for my lying-in, and then I will travel after you.

” I told the old harridan that I would very gladly leave her thirty if she would give me my Angelica.

We made the bargain, and Angelica entreated me to by her a gown of black velvet, because the stuff was cheap at Naples.

I consented to everything, sent for the velvet, settled its price and paid for it;

then the old woman, who thought me over head and ears in love, begged for a gown of fine cloth for herself, as well as other outlays for her sons, and a good bit more money than I had offered.

I turned to her with a pleasant air and said: “My dear Beatrice, are you satisfied with what I offered?

” She answered that she was not; thereupon I said that what was not enough for her would be quite enough for me; and having kissed Angelica, we parted, she with tears, and I with laughter, and off at once I set for Rome.

Note 1. The Spanish Viceroy was at this time Pietro Alvarez de Toledo, Marquis of Villafranca, and uncle of the famous Duke of Alva.

He governed Naples for twenty years, from 1532 onwards.

Note 2. 'Mi fece una polizza.'

A 'polizza' was an order for money, practically identical with our 'cheque.'

LXX

I LEFT Naples by night with my money in my pocket, and this I did to prevent being set upon or murdered, as is the way there; but when I came to Selciata, [1] I had to defend myself with great address and bodily prowess from several horsemen who came out to assassinate me.

During the following days, after leaving Solosmeo at his work in Monte Cassino, I came one morning to breakfast at the inn of Adanagni; [2] and when I was near the house, I shot some birds with my arquebuse.

An iron spike, which was in the lock of my musket, tore my right hand.

Though the wound was not of any consequence, it seemed to be so, because it bled abundantly.

Going into the inn, I put my horse up, and ascended to a large gallery, where I found a party of Neapolitan gentlemen just upon the point of sitting down to table; they had with them a young woman of quality, the loveliest I ever saw.

At the moment when I entered the room, I was followed by a very brave young serving-man of mine holding a big partisan in his hand.

The sight of us, our arms, and the blood, inspired those poor gentlemen with such terror, particularly as the place was known to be a nest of murderers, that they rose from table and called on God in a panic to protect them.

I began to laugh, and said that God had protected them already, for that I was a man to defend them against whoever tried to do them harm.

Then I asked them for something to bind up my wounded hand; and the charming lady took out a handkerchief richly embroidered with gold, wishing to make a bandage with it.

I refused; but she tore the piece in half, and in the gentlest manner wrapt my hand up with her fingers.

The company thus having regained confidence, we dined together very gaily; and when the meal was over, we all mounted and went off together.

The gentlemen, however, were not as yet quite at their ease; so they left me in their cunning to entertain the lady, while they kept at a short distance behind.

I rode at her side upon a pretty little horse of mine, making signs to my servant that he should keep somewhat apart, which gave us the opportunity of discussing things that are not sold by the apothecary.

[3] In this way I journeyed to Rome with the greatest enjoyment I have ever had.

When I got to Rome, I dismounted at the palace of Cardinal de’ Medici, and having obtained an audience of his most reverend lordship, paid my respects, and thanked him warmly for my recall.

I then entreated him to secure me from imprisonment, and even from a fine if that were possible.

The Cardinal was very glad to see me; told me to stand in no fear; then turned to one of his gentlemen, called Messer Pier Antonio Pecci of Siena, ordering him to tell the Bargello not to touch me.

[4] He then asked him how the man was going on whose head I had broken with the stone.

Messer Pier Antonio replied that he was very ill, and that he would probably be even worse; for when he heard that I was coming back to Rome, he swore he would die to serve me an ill turn.

When the Cardinal heard that, he burst into a fit of laughter, and cried: “The fellow could not have taken a better way than this to make us know that he was born a Sienese.

” After that he turned to me and said: “For our reputation and your own, refrain these four or five days from going about in the Banchi; after that go where you like, and let fools die at their own pleasure.

” I went home and set myself to finishing the medal which I had begun, with the head of Pope Clement and a figure of Peace on the reverse.

The figure was a slender woman, dressed in very thin drapery, gathered at the waist, with a little torch in her hand, which was burning a heap of arms bound together like a trophy.

In the background I had shown part of a temple, where was Discord chained with a load of fetters.

Round about it ran a legend in these words: 'Clauduntur belli portæ.'

[5] During the time that I was finishing this medal, the man whom I had wounded recovered, and the Pope kept incessantly asking for me.

I,

however, avoided visiting Cardinal de’ Medici; for whenever I showed my face before him, his lordship gave me some commission of importance, which hindered me from working at my medal to the end.

Consequently Messer Pier Carnesecchi, who was a great favourite of the Pope’s, undertook to keep me in sight, and let me adroitly understand how much the Pope desired my services.

[6] I told him that in a few days I would prove to his Holiness that his service had never been neglected by me.

Note 1. Ponte a Selice, between Capua and Aversa.

Note 2. Anagni, where Boniface VIII.

was outraged to the death by the French partisans of Philip le Bel.

Note 3. 'I. e. ,' private and sentimental.

Note 4. This Pecci passed into the service of Caterina de’ Medici.

In 1551 he schemed to withdraw Siena from the Spanish to the French cause, and was declared a rebel.

Note 5. The medal was struck to celebrate the peace in Christendom between 1530 and 1536. Note 6. Pietro Carnesecchi was one of the martyrs of free-thought in Italy.

He adopted Protestant opinions, and was beheaded and burned in Rome, August 1567.