History of the World/History of the World (Bureau Development, Inc.)(1992).BIN/dp/0036/00360.txt

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$Title{Autobiography Of Benvenuto Cellini
Part IX}
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$Author{Cellini, Benvenuto}
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$Subject{upon
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now
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$Date{1566}
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Title:       Autobiography Of Benvenuto Cellini
Book:        Book Second
Author:      Cellini, Benvenuto
Date:        1566
Translation: Symonds, John Addington

Part IX

     Having succeeded so well with the cast of the Medusa, I had great hope of
bringing my Perseus through; for I had laid the wax on, and felt confident
that it would come out in bronze as perfectly as the Medusa. The waxen model
produced so fine an effect, that when the Duke saw it and was struck with its
beauty - whether somebody had persuaded him it could not be carried out with
the same finish in metal, or whether he thought so for himself - he came to
visit me more frequently than usual, and on one occasion said: "Benvenuto,
this figure cannot succeed in bronze; the laws of art do not admit of it."
These words of his Excellency stung me so sharply that I answered: "My lord, I
know how very little confidence you have in me; and I believe the reason of
this is that your most illustrious Excellency lends too ready an ear to my
calumniators, or else indeed that you do not understand my art." He hardly let
me close the sentence when he broke in: "I profess myself a connoisseur, and
understand it very well indeed." I replied: "Yes, like a prince, not like an
artist; for if your Excellency understood my trade as well as you imagine, you
would trust me on the proofs I have already given. These are, first, the
colossal bronze bust of your Excellency, which is now in Elba; ^1 secondly,
the restoration of the Ganymede in marble, which offered so many difficulties
and cost me so much trouble, that I would rather have made the whole statue
new from the beginning; thirdly, the Medusa, cast by me in bronze, here now
before your Excellency's eyes, the execution of which was a greater triumph of
strength and skill than any of my predecessors in this fiendish art have yet
achieved. Look you, my lord! I constructed that furnace anew on principles
quite different from those of other founders; in addition to many technical
improvements and ingenious devices, I supplied it with two issues for the
metal, because this difficult and twisted figure could not otherwise have come
out perfect. It is only owing to my intelligent insight into means and
appliances that the statue turned out as it did; a triumph judged impossible
by all the practitioners of this art. I should like you furthermore to be
aware, my lord, for certain, that the sole reason why I succeeded with all
those great arduous works in France under his most admirable Majesty King
Francis, was the high courage which that good monarch put into my heart by the
liberal allowances he made me, and the multitude of workpeople he left at my
disposal. I could have as many as I asked for, and employed at times above
forty, all chosen by myself. These were the causes of my having there produced
so many masterpieces in so short a space of time. Now then, my lord, put trust
in me; supply me with the aid I need. I am confident of being able to complete
a work which will delight your soul. But if your Excellency goes on
disheartening me, and does not advance me the assistance which is absolutely
required, neither I nor any man alive upon this earth can hope to achieve the
slightest thing of value."

[Footnote 1: At Portoferraio. It came afterwards to Florence.]

     It was as much as the Duke could do to stand by and listen to my
pleadings. He kept turning first this way and then that; while I, in despair,
poor wretched I, was calling up remembrance of the noble state I held in
France, to the great sorrow of my soul. All at once he cried: "Come, tell me,
Benvenuto, how is it possible that yonder splendid head of Medusa, so high up
there in the grasp of Perseus, should ever come out perfect?" I replied upon
the instant: "Look you now, my lord! If your Excellency possessed that
knowledge of the craft which you affirm you have, you would not fear one
moment for the splendid head you speak of. There is good reason, on the other
hand, to feel uneasy about this right foot, so far below and at a distance
from the rest." When he heard these words, the Duke turned, half in anger, to
some gentlemen in waiting, and exclaimed: "I verily believe that this
Benvenuto prides himself on contradicting everything one says." Then he faced
round to me with a touch of mockery, upon which his attendants did the like,
and began to speak as follows: "I will listen patiently to any argument you
can possibly produce in explanation of your statement, which may convince me
of its probability." I said in answer: "I will adduce so sound an argument
that your Excellency shall perceive the full force of it." So I began: "You
must know, my lord, that the nature of fire is to ascend, and therefore I
promise you that Medusa's head will come out famously; but since it is not in
the nature of fire to descend, and I must force it downwards six cubits by
artificial means, I assure your Excellency upon this most convincing ground of
proof that the foot cannot possibly come out. It will, however, be quite easy
for me to restore it." "Why, then," said the Duke, "did you not devise it so
that the foot should come out as well as you affirm the head will?" I
answered: "I must have made a much larger furnace, with a conduit as thick as
my leg; and so I might have forced the molten metal by its own weight to
descend so far. Now, my pipe, which runs six cubits to the statue's foot, as I
have said, is not thicker than two fingers. However, it was not worth the
trouble and expense to make a larger; for I shall easily be able to mend what
is lacking. But when my mould is more than half full, as I expect, from this
middle point upwards, the fire ascending by its natural property, then the
heads of Perseus and Medusa will come out admirably; you may be quite sure of
it." After I had thus expounded these convincing arguments, together with many
more of the same kind, which it would be tedious to set down here, the Duke
shook his head and departed without further ceremony.

     Abandoned thus to my own resources, I took new courage, and banished the
sad thoughts which kept recurring to my mind, making me often weep bitter
tears of repentance for having left France; for though I did so only to
revisit Florence, my sweet birthplace, in order that I might charitably
succour my six nieces, this good action, as I well perceived, had been the
beginning of my great misfortune. Nevertheless, I felt convinced that when my
Perseus was accomplished, all these trials would be turned to high felicity
and glorious well-being.

     Accordingly I strengthened my heart, and with all the forces of my body
and my purse, employing what little money still remained to me, I set to work.
First I provided myself with several loads of pinewood from the forests of
Serristori, in the neighbourhood of Montelupo. While these were on their way,
I clothed my Perseus with the clay which I had prepared many months
beforehand, in order that it might be duly seasoned. After making its clay
tunic (for that is the term used in this art) and properly arming it and
fencing it with iron girders, I began to draw the wax out by means of a slow
fire. This melted and issued through numerous airvents I had made; for the
more there are of these, the better will the mould fill. When I had finished
drawing off the wax, I constructed a funnel-shaped furnace all round the model
of my Perseus. ^1 It was built of bricks, so interlaced, the one above the
other, that numerous apertures were left for the fire to exhale at. Then I
began to lay on wood by degrees, and kept it burning two whole days and
nights. At length, when all the wax was gone, and the mould was well baked, I
set to work at digging the pit in which to sink it. This I performed with
scrupulous regard to all the rules of art. When I had finished that part of my
work, I raised the mould by windlasses and stout ropes to a perpendicular
position, and suspending it with the greatest care one cubit above the level
of the furnace, so that it hung exactly above the middle of the pit, I next
lowered it gently down into the very bottom of the furnace, and had it firmly
placed with every possible precaution for its safety. When this delicate
operation was accomplished, I began to bank it up with the earth I had
excavated; and, ever as the earth grew higher, I introduced its proper
air-vents, which were little tubes of earthenware, such as folk use for drains
and such-like purposes. ^2 At length, I felt sure that it was admirably fixed,
and that the filling-in of the pit and the placing of the air-vents had been
properly performed. I also could see that my work people understood my method,
which differed very considerably from that of all the other masters in the
trade. Feeling confident, then, that I could rely upon them, I next turned to
my furnace, which I had filled with numerous pigs of copper and other bronze
stuff. The pieces were piled according to the laws of art, that is to say, so
resting one upon the other that the flames could play freely through them, in
order that the metal might heat and liquefy the sooner. At last I called out
heartily to set the furnace going. The logs of pine were heaped in, and, what
with the unctuous resin of the wood and the good draught I had given, my
furnace worked so well that I was obliged to rush from side to side to keep it
going. The labour was more than I could stand; yet I forced myself to strain
every nerve and muscle. To increase my anxieties, the workshop took fire, and
we were afraid lest the roof should fall upon our heads; while, from the
garden, such a storm of wind and rain kept blowing in, that it perceptibly
cooled the furnace.

[Footnote 1: This furnace, called manica, was like a grain-hopper, so that the
mould could stand upright in it as in a cup. The word manica is the same as
our manuch, an antique form of sleeve.]

[Footnote 2: These air-vents, or sfiatatoi, were introduced into the outer
mould, which Cellini calls the tonaca, or clay tunic laid upon the original
model of baked clay and wax. They served the double purpose of drawing off the
wax, whereby a space was left for the molten bronze to enter, and also of
facilitating the penetration of this molten metal by allowing a free escape of
air and gas from the outer mould.]

     Battling thus with all these untoward circumstances for several hours,
and exerting myself beyond even the measure of my powerful constitution, I
could at last bear up no longer, and a sudden fever, ^3 of the utmost possible
intensity, attacked me. I felt absolutely obliged to go and fling myself upon
my bed. Sorely against my will having to drag myself away from the spot, I
turned to my assistants, about ten or more in all, what with master-founders,
hand-workers, country-fellows, and my own special journeymen, among whom was
Bernardino Mannellini of Mugello, my apprentice through several years. To him
in particular I spoke: "Look, my dear Bernardino, that you observe the rules
which I have taught you; do your best with all despatch, for the metal will
soon be fused. You cannot go wrong; these honest men will get the channels
ready; you will easily be able to drive back the two plugs with this pair of
iron crooks; and I am sure that my mould will fill miraculously. I feel more
ill than I ever did in all my life, and verily believe that it will kill me
before a few hours are over. ^4 Thus, with despair at heart, I left them, and
betook myself to bed.

[Footnote 3: Una febbre efimera. Lit., a fever of one day's duration.]

[Footnote 4: Some technical terms require explanation in this sentence. The
canali or channels were sluices for carrying the molten metal from the furnace
into the mould. The mandriani, which I have translated by iron crooks, were
poles fitted at the end with curved irons, by which the openings of the
furnace, plugs, or in Italian spine, could be partially or wholly driven back,
so as to the molten metal flow through the channels into the mould. When the
metal reached the mould, it entered in a red-hot stream between the tonaca,
or outside mould, and the anima, or inner block, filling up exactly the space
which had previously been occupied by the wax extracted by a method of slow
burning alluded to above. I believe that the process is known as casting a
cire perdue. The forma, or mould, consisted of two pieces; one hollow (la
tonaca), which gave shape to the bronze; one solid and rounded (la anima),
which stood at a short interval within the former, and regulated the influx of
the metal.]

     No sooner had I got to bed, than I ordered my serving-maids to carry food
and wine for all the men into the workshop; at the same time I cried: "I shall
not be alive tomorrow." They tried to encourage me, arguing that my illness
would pass over, since it came from excessive fatigue. In this way I spent two
hours battling with the fever, which steadily increased, and calling out
continually: "I feel that I am dying." My housekeeper, who was named Mona
Fiore da Castel del Rio, a very notable manager and no less warm-hearted, kept
chiding me for my discouragement; but, on the other hand, she paid me every
kind attention which was possible. However, the sight of my physical pain and
moral dejection so affected her, that, in spite of that brave heart of hers,
she could not refrain from shedding tears; and yet, so far as she was able,
she took good care I should not see them. While I was thus terribly afflicted,
I beheld the figure of a man enter my chamber, twisted in his body into the
form of a capital S. He raised a lamentable, doleful voice, like one who
announces their last hour to men condemned to die upon the scaffold, and spoke
these words: "O Benvenuto! your statue is spoiled, and there is no hope
whatever of saving it." No sooner had I heard the shriek of that wretch than I
gave a howl which might have been heard from the sphere of flame. Jumping from
my bed, I seized my clothes and began to dress. The maids, and my lads, and
every one who came around to help me, got kicks or blows of the fist, while I
kept crying out in lamentation: "Ah! traitors! enviers! This is an act of
treason, done by malice prepense! But I swear by God that I will sift it to
the bottom, and before I die will leave such witness to the world of what I
can do as shall make a score of mortals marvel."

     When I had got my clothes on, I strode with soul bent on mischief toward
the workshop; there I beheld the men, whom I had left erewhile in such high
spirits, standing stupefied and downcast. I began at once and spoke: "Up with
you! Attend to me! Since you have not been able or willing to obey the
directions I gave you, obey me now that I am with you to conduct my work in
person. Let no one contradict me, for in cases like this we need the aid of
hand and hearing, not of advice." When I had uttered these words, a certain
Maestro Alessandro Lastricati broke silence and said: "Look you, Benaenuto,
you are going to attempt an enterprise which the laws of art do not sanction,
and which cannot succeed." I turned upon him with such fury and so full of
mischief, that he and all the rest of them exclaimed with one voice: "On then!
Give orders! We will obey your least commands, so long as life is left in us."
I believe they spoke thus feelingly because they thought I must fall shortly
dead upon the ground. I went immediately to inspect the furnace, and found
that the metal was all curdled; an accident which we express by "being
caked." ^1 I told two of the hands to cross the road, and fetch from the house
of the butcher Capretta a load of young oak-wood, which had lain dry for
above a year; this wood had been previously offered me by Madame Ginevra, wife
of the said Capretta. So soon as the first armfuls arrived, I began to fill
the grate beneath the furnace. ^2 Now oak-wood of that kind heats more
powerfully than any other sort of tree; and for this reason, where a slow fire
is wanted, as in the case of gun-foundry, alder or pine is preferred.
Accordingly, when the logs took fire, oh! how the cake began to stir beneath
that awful heat, to glow and sparkle in a blaze! At the same time I kept
stirring up the channels, and sent men upon the roof to stop the
conflagration, which had gathered force from the increased combustion in the
furnace; also I caused boards, carpets, and other hangings to be set up
against the garden, in order to protect us from the violence of the rain.

[Footnote 1: Essersi fatto un migliaccio.]

[Footnote 2: The Italian is bracciaiuola, a pit below the grating, which
receives the ashes from the furnace.]

     When I had thus provided against these several disasters, I roared out
first to one man and then to another: "Bring this thing here! Take that thing
there!" At this crisis, when the whole gang saw the cake was on the point of
melting, they did my bidding, each fellow working with the strength of three.
I then ordered half a pig of pewter to be brought, which weighed about sixty
pounds, and flung it into the middle of the cake inside the furnace. By this
means, and by piling on wood and stirring now with pokers and now with iron
rods, the curdled mass rapidly began to liquefy. Then, knowing I had brought
the dead to life again, against the firm opinion of those ignoramuses, I felt
such vigour fill my veins, that all those pains of fever, all those fears of
death, were quite forgotten.

     All of a sudden an explosion took place, attended by a tremendous flash
of flame, as though a thunderbolt had formed and been discharged amongst us.
Unwonted and appalling terror astonied every one, and me more even than the
rest. When the din was over and the dazzling light extinguished, we began to
look each other in the face. Then I discovered that the cap of the furnace had
blown up, and the bronze was bubbling over from its source beneath. So I had
the mouths of my mould immediately opened, and at the same time drove in the
two plugs which kept back the molten metal. But I noticed that it did not flow
as rapidly as usual, the reason being probably that the fierce heat of the
fire we kindled had consumed its base alloy. Accordingly I sent for all my
pewter platters, porringers, and dishes, to the number of some two hundred
pieces, and had a portion of them cast, one by one, into the channels, the
rest into the furnace. This expedient succeeded, and every one could now
perceive that my bronze was in most perfect liquefaction, and my mould was
filling; whereupon they all with heartiness and happy cheer assisted and
obeyed my bidding, while I, now here, now there, gave orders, helped with my
own hands, and cried aloud: "O God! Thou that by Thy immeasurable power didst
rise from the dead, and in Thy glory didst ascend to heaven!" . . . . even
thus in a moment my mould was filled; and seeing my work finished, I fell upon
my knees, and with all my heart gave thanks to God.

     After all was over, I turned to a plate of salad on a bench there, and
ate with hearty appetite, and drank together with the whole crew. Afterwards I
retired to bed, healthy and happy, for it was now two hours before morning,
and slept as sweetly as though I had never felt a touch of illness. My good
housekeeper, without my giving any orders, had prepared a fat capon for my
repast. So that, when I rose, about the hour for breaking fast, she presented
herself with a smiling countenance, and said: "Oh! is that the man who felt
that he was dying? Upon my word, I think the blows and kicks you dealt us last
night, when you were so enraged, and had that demon in your body as it seemed,
must have frightened away your mortal fever! The fever feared that it might
catch it too, as we did!" All my poor household, relieved in like measure from
anxiety and overwhelming labour, went at once to buy earthen vessels in order
to replace the pewter I had cast away. Then we dined together joyfully; nay, I
cannot remember a day in my whole life when I dined with greater gladness or a
better appetite.

     After our meal I received visits from the several men who had assisted
me. They exchanged congratulations, and thanked God for our success, saying
they had learned and seen things done which other masters judged impossible. I
too grew somewhat glorious; and deeming I had shown myself a man of talent,
indulged a boastful humour. So I thrust my hand into my purse, and paid them
all to their full satisfaction.

     That evil fellow, my mortal foe, Messer Pier Francesco Ricci, majordomo
of the Duke, took great pains to find out how the affair had gone. In answer
to his questions, the two men whom I suspected of having caked my metal for
me, said I was no man, but of a certainty some powerful devil, since I had
accomplished what no craft of the art could do; indeed they did not believe a
mere ordinary fiend could work such miracles as I in other ways had shown.
They exaggerated the whole affair so much, possibly in order to excuse their
own part in it, that the majordomo wrote an account to the Duke, who was then
in Pisa, far more marvellous and full of thrilling incidents than what they
had narrated.

     After I had let my statue cool for two whole days, I began to uncover it
by slow degrees. The first thing I found was that the head of Medusa had come
out most admirably, thanks to the air-vents; for, as I had told the Duke, it
is the nature of fire to ascend. Upon advancing farther, I discovered that the
other head, that, namely, of Perseus, had succeeded no less admirably; and
this astonished me far more, because it is at a considerably lower level than
that of the Medusa. Now the mouths of the mould were placed above the head of
Perseus and behind his shoulders; and I found that all the bronze my furnace
contained had been exhausted in the head of this figure. It was a miracle to
observe that not one fragment remained in the orifice of the channel, and that
nothing was wanting to the statue. In my great astonishment I seemed to see in
this the hand of God arranging and controlling all.

     I went on uncovering the statue with success, and ascertained that
everything had come out in perfect order, until I reached the foot of the
right leg on which the statue rests. There the heel itself was formed, and
going farther, I found the foot apparently complete. This gave me great joy on
the one side, but was half unwelcome to me on the other, merely because I had
told the Duke that it could not come out. However, when I reached the end, it
appeared that the toes and a little piece above them were unfinished, so that
about half the foot was wanting. Although I knew that this would add a trifle
to my labour, I was very well pleased, because I could now prove to the Duke
how well I understood my business. It is true that far more of the foot than I
expected had been perfectly formed; the reason of this was that, from causes I
have recently described, the bronze was hotter than our rules of art
prescribe; also that I had been obliged to supplement the alloy with my pewter
cups and platters, which no one else, I think, had ever done before.

     Having now ascertained how successfully my work had been accomplished, I
lost no time in hurrying to Pisa, where I found the Duke. He gave me a most
gracious reception, as did also the Duchess; and although the majordomo had
informed them of the whole proceedings, their Excellencies deemed my
performance far more stupendous and astonishing when they heard the tale from
my own mouth. When I arrived at the foot of Perseus, and said it had not come
out perfect, just as I previously warned his Excellency, I saw an expression
of wonder pass over his face, while he related to the Duchess how I had
predicted this beforehand. Observing the princes to be so well disposed
towards me, I begged leave from the Duke to go to Rome. He granted it in most
obliging terms, and bade me return as soon as possible to complete his
Perseus; giving me letters of recommendation meanwhile to his ambassador,
Averardo Serristori. We were then in the first years of Pope Giulio de
Monti. ^1

[Footnote 1: Gio Maria del Monte Sansovino was elected Pope, with the title of
Julius III., in February 1550.]

     Before leaving home, I directed my workpeople to proceed according to the
method I had taught them. The reason of my journey was as follows. I had made
a life-sized bust in bronze of Bindo Altoviti, ^2 the son of Antonio, and had
sent it to him at Rome. He set it up in his study, which was very richly
adorned with antiquities and other works of art; but the room was not designed
for statues or for paintings, since the windows were too low, so that the
light coming from beneath spoiled the effect they would have produced under
more favourable conditions. It happened one day that Bindo was standing at his
door, when Michel Agnolo Buonarroti, the sculptor, passed by; so he begged him
to come in and see his study. Michel Agnolo followed, and on entering the room
and looking round, he exclaimed: "Who is the master who made that good
portrait of you in so fine a manner? You must know that that bust pleases me
as much, or even more, than those antiques; and yet there are many fine things
to be seen among the latter. If those windows were above instead of beneath,
the whole collection would show to greater advantage, and your portrait,
placed among so many masterpieces, would hold its own with credit." No sooner
had Michel Agnolo left the house of Bindo than he wrote me a very kind letter,
which ran as follows: "My dear Benvenuto, I have known you for many years as
the greatest goldsmith of whom we have any information; and henceforward I
shall know you for a sculptor of like quality. I must tell you that Master
Bindo Altoviti took me to see his bust in bronze, and informed me that you had
made it. I was greatly pleased with the work; but it annoyed me to notice that
it was placed in a bad light; for if it were suitably illuminated, it would
show itself to be the fine performance that it is." This letter abounded with
the most affectionate and complimentary expressions towards myself; and before
I left for Rome, I showed it to the Duke, who read it with much kindly
interest, and said to me: "Benvenuto, if you write to him, and can persuade
him to return to Florence, I will make him a member of the Forty-eight." ^3
Accordingly I wrote a letter full of warmth, and offered in the Duke's name a
hundred times more than my commission carried; but not wanting to make any
mistake, I showed this to the Duke before I sealed it, saying to his most
illustrious Excellency: "Prince, perhaps I have made him too many promises."
He replied: "Michel Agnolo deserves more than you have promised, and I will
bestow on him still greater favours." To this letter he sent no answer, and I
could see that the Duke was much offended with him.

[Footnote 2: This man was a member of a very noble Florentine family. Born in
1491, he was at this epoch Tuscan Consul in Rome. Cellini's bust of him still
exists in the Palazzo Altoviti at Rome.]

[Footnote 3: This was one of the three Councils created by Clement VII. in
1532, when he changed the Florentine constitution. It corresponded to a
Senate.]

     When I reached Rome, I went to lodge in Bindo Altoviti's house. He told
me at once how he had shown his bronze bust to Michel Agnolo, and how the
latter had praised it. So we spoke for some length upon this topic. I ought to
narrate the reasons why I had taken this portrait. Bindo had in his hands 1200
golden crowns of mine, which formed part of 5000 he had lent the Duke; 4000
were his own, and mine stood in his name, while I received that portion of the
interest which accrued to me. ^1 This led to my taking his portrait; and when
he saw the wax model for the bust, he sent me fifty golden scudi by a notary
in his employ, named Ser Giuliano Paccalli. I did not want to take the money,
so I sent it back to him by the same hand, saying at a later time to Bindo: "I
shall be satisfied if you keep that sum of mine for me at interest, so that I
may gain a little on it." When we came to square accounts on this occasion, I
observed that he was ill disposed towards me, since, instead of treating me
affectionately, according to his previous wont, he put on a stiff air; and
although I was staying in his house, he was never good-humoured, but always
surly. However, we settled our business in a few words. I sacrificed my pay
for his portrait, together with the bronze, and we arranged that he should
keep my money at 15 per cent. during my natural life.

[Footnote 1: To make the sum correct, 5200 ought to have been lent the Duke.]

     One of the first things I did was to go and kiss the Pope's feet; and
while I was speaking with his Holiness, Messer Averardo Serristori, our Duke's
Envoy, arrived. ^2 I had made some proposals to the Pope, which I think he
would have agreed upon, and I should have been very glad to return to Rome on
account of the great difficulties which I had at Florence. But I soon
perceived that the ambassador had countermined me.

[Footnote 2: His despatches form a valuable series of historical documents.
Firenze, Le Monnier, 1853.]

     Then I went to visit Michel Agnolo Buonarroti, and repeated what I had
written from Florence to him in the Duke's name. He replied that he was
engaged upon the fabric of S. Peter's, and that this would prevent him from
leaving Rome. I rejoined that, as he had decided on the model of that
building, he could leave its execution to his man Urbino, who would carry out
his orders to the letter. I added much about future favours, in the form of a
message from the Duke. Upon this he looked me hard in the face, and said with
a sarcastic smile: "And you! to what extent are you satisfied with him?"
Although I replied that I was extremely contented and was very well treated by
his Excellency, he showed that he was acquainted with the greater part of my
annoyances, and gave as his final answer that it would be difficult for him to
leave Rome. To this I added that he could not do better than to return to his
own land, which was governed by a prince renowned for justice, and the
greatest lover of the arts and sciences who ever saw the light of this world.
As I have remarked above, he had with him a servant of his who came from
Urbino, and had lived many years in his employment, rather as valet and
housekeeper than anything else; this indeed was obvious, because he had
acquired no skill in the arts. ^3 Consequently, while I was pressing Michel
Agnolo with arguments he could not answer, he turned round sharply to Urbino,
as though to ask him his opinion. The fellow began to bawl out in his rustic
way: "I will never leave my master Michel Agnolo's side till I shall have
flayed him or he shall have flayed me." These stupid words forced me to laugh,
and without saying farewell, I lowered my shoulders and retired.

[Footnote 3: Upon the death of this Urbino, Michel Agnolo wrote a touching
sonnet and a very feeling letter to Vasari.]