History of the World/History of the World (Bureau Development, Inc.)(1992).BIN/dp/0036/00362.txt

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$Title{Autobiography Of Benvenuto Cellini
Part XI}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{Cellini, Benvenuto}
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$Subject{duke
excellency
footnote
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bandinello
illustrious
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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 XI

     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.

     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."

[Footnote 1: April 27, 1554.]

     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."

[Footnote 2: Don Juan de Vega.]

[Footnote 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.]

     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.

     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."

[Footnote 1: The Ermo is more correctly Eremo, and Vernia is Alvernia.]

     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."

     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.

[Footnote 1: A village in the Castenino. Piero Strozzi was at this time in
Valdichiana.]

     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.

[Footnote 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.]

     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.

[Footnote 2: A small Tuscan coin.]

     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.

[Footnote 1: A warm partisan of the Medici. He was a cousin of Maria Salviati,
Cosimo's mother. It was rumoured that he caused the historian Francesco
Guicciardini's death by poison. We find him godfather to one of Cellini's
children.]

     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.

[Footnote 2: This Salviati and the De' Nobili mentioned afterwards occupied a
distinguished place in Florentine annals as partisans of the Medici.]

     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.

[Footnote 3: Cellini began to write his Memoirs in 1558. Eight years had
therefore now elapsed.]

     I had almost determined to say nothing more about that unlucky Perseus;
but a most remarkable incident, which I do not like to omit, obliges me to do
so; wherefore I must now turn back a bit, to gather up the thread of my
narration. I thought I was acting for the best when I told the Duchess that I
could not compromise affairs which were no longer in my hands, seeing I had
informed the Duke that I should gladly accept whatever he chose to give me. I
said this in the hope of gaining favour; and with this manifestation of
submissiveness I employed every likely means of pacifying his resentment; for
I ought to add that a few days before he came to terms with Albizzi, the Duke
had shown he was excessively displeased with me. The reason was as follows: I
complained of some abominable acts of injustice done to me by Messer Alfonso
Quistelli, Messer Jacopo Polverino of the Exchequer, and more than all by Ser
Giovanbattista Brandini of Volterra. When, therefore, I set forth my cause
with some vehemence, the Duke flew into the greatest rage conceivable. Being
thus in anger, he exclaimed: "This is just the same as with your Perseus, when
you asked those ten thousand crowns. You let yourself be blinded by mere
cupidity. Therefore I shall have the statue valued, and shall give you what
the experts think it worth." To these words I replied with too much daring and
a touch of indignation, which is always out of place in dealing with great
princes: "How is it possible that my work should be valued at its proper worth
when there is not a man in Florence capable of performing it?" That increased
his irritation; he uttered many furious phrases, and among them said: "There
is in Florence at this day a man well able to make such a statue, and who is
therefore highly capable of judging it." He meant Bandinello, Cavaliere of S.
Jacopo. ^1 Then I rejoined: "My lord, your most illustrious Excellency gave me
the means of producing an important and very difficult masterpiece in the
midst of this the noblest school of the world; and my work has been received
with warmer praises than any other heretofore exposed before the gaze of our
incomparable masters. My chief pride is the commendation of those able men who
both understand and practise the arts of design - as in particular Bronzino,
the painter; this man set himself to work, and composed four sonnets couched
in the choicest style, and full of honour to myself. Perhaps it was his
example which moved the whole city to such a tumult of enthusiasm. I freely
admit that if sculpture were his business instead of painting, then Bronzino
might have been equal a to task like mine. Michel Agnolo Buonarroti, again,
whom I am proud to call my master; he, I admit, could have achieved the same
success when he was young, but not with less fatigue and trouble than I
endured. But now that he is far advanced in years, he would most certainly be
found unequal to the strain. Therefore I think I am justified in saying that
no man known upon this earth could have produced my Perseus. For the rest, my
work has received the greatest reward I could have wished for in this world;
chiefly and especially because your most illustrious Excellency not only
expressed yourself satisfied, but praised it far more highly than any one
beside. What greater and more honourable prize could be desired by me? I
affirm most emphatically that your Excellency could not pay me with more
glorious coin, nor add from any treasury a wealth surpassing this. Therefore I
hold myself overpaid already, and return thanks to your most illustrious
Excellency with all my heart." The Duke made answer: "Probably you think I
have not the money to pay you. For my part, I promise you that I shall pay you
more for the statue than it is worth." Then I retorted: "I did not picture to
my fancy any better recompense from your Excellency; yet I account myself
amply remunerated by that first reward which the school of Florence gave me.
With this to console me, I shall take my departure on the instant, without
returning to the house you gave me, and shall never seek to set my foot in
this town again." We were just at S. Felicita, and his Excellency was
proceeding to the palace. When he heard these choleric words, he turned upon
me in stern anger and exclaimed: "You shall not go; take heed you do not go!"
Half terrified, I then followed him to the palace.

[Footnote 1: Bandinelli was a Knight of S. James of Compostella.]

     On arriving there, his Excellency sent for the Archbishop of Pisa, named
De, Bartolini, and Messer Pandolfo della Stufa, ^2 requesting them to order
Baccio Bandinelli, in his name, to examine well my Perseus and value it, since
he wished to pay its exact price. These excellent men went forthwith and
performed their embassy. In reply Bandinello said that he had examined the
statue minutely, and knew well enough what it was worth; but having been on
bad terms otherwise with me for some time past, he did not care to be
entangled anyhow in my affairs. Then they began to put a gentle pressure on
him, saying: "The Duke ordered us to tell you, under pain of his displeasure,
that you are to value the statue, and you may have two or three days to
consider your estimate. When you have done so, tell us at what price it ought
to be paid." He answered that his judgment was already formed, that he could
not disobey the Duke, and that my work was rich and beautiful and excellent in
execution; therefore he thought sixteen thousand crowns or more would not be
an excessive price for it. Those good and courteous gentlemen reported this to
the Duke, who was mightily enraged; they also told the same to me. I replied
that nothing in the world would induce me to take praise from Bandinello,
"seeing that this bad man speaks ill of everybody." My words were carried to
the Duke; and that was the reason why the Duchess wanted me to place the
matter in her hands. All that I have written is the pure truth. I will only
add that I ought to have trusted to her intervention, for then I should have
been quickly paid, and should have received so much more into the bargain.

[Footnote 2: Onofrio de' Bartolini was made Archbishop of Pisa in 1518, at the
age of about seventeen. He was a devoted adherent of the Medici. He was shut
up with Clement in S. Angelo, and sent as hostage to the Imperial army.
Pandolfo della Stufa had been cup-bearer to Caterina de' Medici while
Dauphiness.]

     The Duke sent me word by Messer Lelio Torello, ^1 his Master of the
Rolls, ^2 that he wanted me to execute some bas-reliefs in bronze for the
choir of S. Maria del Fiore. Now the choir was by Bandinello, and I did not
choose to enrich his bad work with my labours. He had not indeed designed it,
for he understood nothing whatever about architecture; the design was given by
Giuliano, the son of that Baccio d'Agnolo, the wood-carver, who spoiled the
cupola. ^3 Suffice it to say that it shows no talent. For both reasons I was
determined not to undertake the task, although I told the Duke politely that I
would do whatever his most illustrious Excellency ordered. Accordingly, he put
the matter into the hands of the Board of Works for S. Maria del Fiore, ^4
telling them to come to an agreement with me; he would continue my allowance
of two hundred crowns a year, while they were to supply the rest out of their
funds.

[Footnote 1: A native of Fano. Cosimo's Auditore, 1539; first Secretary or
Grand Chancellor, 1546. He was a great jurist.]

[Footnote 2: Suo auditore.]

[Footnote 3: It was Baccio d'Agnolo who altered Brunelleschi's plan for the
cupola. Buonarroti used to say that he made it look like a cage for crickets.
His work remained unfinished.]

[Footnote 4: Operai di S. Maria del Fiore.]

     In due course I came before the Board, and they told me what the Duke had
arranged. Feeling that I could explain my views more frankly to these
gentlemen, I began by demonstrating that so many histories in bronze would
cost a vast amount of money, which would be totally thrown away, giving all my
reasons, which they fully appreciated. In the first place, I said that the
construction of the choir was altogether incorrect, without proportion, art,
convenience, grace, or good design. In the next place, the bas-reliefs would
have to stand too low, beneath the proper line of vision; they would become a
place for dogs to piss at, and be always full of ordure. Consequently, I
declined positively to execute them. However, since I did not wish to throw
away the best years of my life, and was eager to serve his most illustrious
Excellency, whom I had the sincerest desire to gratify and obey, I made the
following proposal. Let the Duke, if he wants to employ my talents, give me
the middle door of the cathedral to perform in bronze. This would be well
seen, and would confer far more glory on his most illustrious Excellency. I
would bind myself by contract to receive no remuneration unless I produced
something better than the finest of the Baptistery doors. ^5 But if I
completed it according to my promise, then I was willing to have it valued,
and to be paid one thousand crowns less than the estimate made by experts.

[Footnote 5: He means Ghiberti's second door, in all probability.]

     The members of the Board were well pleased with this suggestion, and went
at once to report the matter to the Duke, among them being Piero Salviati.
They expected him to be extremely gratified with their communication, but it
turned out just the contrary. He replied that I was always wanting to do the
exact opposite of what he bade me; and so Piero left him without coming to any
conclusion. On hearing this, I went off to the Duke at once, who displayed
some irritation when he saw me. However, I begged him to condescend to hear
me, and he replied that he was willing. I then began from the beginning, and
used such convincing arguments that he saw at last how the matter really
stood, since I made it evident that he would only be throwing a large sum of
money away. Then I softened his temper by suggesting that if his most
illustrious Excellency did not care to have the door begun, two pulpits had
anyhow to be made for the choir, and that these would both of them be
considerable works, which would confer glory on his reign; for my part, I was
ready to execute a great number of bronze bas-reliefs with appropriate
decorations. In this way I brought him round, and he gave me orders to
construct the models.

     Accordingly I set at work on several models, and bestowed immense pains
on them. Among these there was one with eight panels, carried out with far
more science than the rest, and which seemed to me more fitted for the
purpose. Having taken them several times to the place, his Excellency sent
word by Messer Cesare, the keeper of his wardrobe, that I should leave them
there. After the Duke had inspected them, I perceived that he had selected the
least beautiful. One day he sent for me, and during our conversation about the
models, I gave many reasons why the octagonal pulpit would be far more
convenient for its destined uses, and would produce a much finer effect. He
answered that he wished me to make it square, because he liked that form
better; and thus he went on conversing for some time very pleasantly. I
meanwhile lost no opportunity of saying everything I could in the interests of
art. Now whether the Duke knew that I had spoken the truth, or whether he
wanted to have his own way, a long time passed before I heard anything more
about it.

     About this time the great block of marble arrived which was intended for
the Neptune. It had been brought up the Arno, and then by the Grieve ^1 to the
road at Poggio a Caiano, in order to be carried to Florence by that level way;
and there I went to see it. Now I knew very well that the Duchess by her
special influence had managed to have it given to Bandinello. No envy prompted
me to dispute his claims, but rather pity for that poor unfortunate piece of
marble. Observe, by the way, that everything, whatever it may be, which is
subject to an evil destiny, although one tries to save it from some manifest
evil, falls at once into far worse plight; as happened to this marble when it
came into the hands of Bartolommeo Ammanato, ^2 of whom I shall speak the
truth in its proper place. After inspecting this most splendid block, I
measured it in every direction, and on returning to Florence, made several
little models suited to its proportions. Then I went to Poggio a Caiano, where
the Duke and Duchess were staying, with their son the Prince. I found them all
at table, the Duke and Duchess dining in a private apartment; so I entered
into conversation with the Prince. We had been speaking for a long while, when
the Duke, who was in a room adjacent, heard my voice, and condescended very
graciously to send for me. When I presented myself before their Excellencies,
the Duchess addressed me in a very pleasant tone; and having thus opened the
conversation, I gradually introduced the subject of that noble block of marble
I had seen. I then proceeded to remark that their ancestors had brought the
magnificent school of Florence to such a pitch of excellence only by
stimulating competition among artists in their several branches. It was thus
that the wonderful cupola and the lovely doors of San Giovanni had been
produced, together with those multitudes of handsome edifices and statues
which made a crown of artistic glory for their city above anything the world
had seen since the days of the ancients. Upon this the Duchess, with some
anger, observed that she very well knew what I meant, and bade me never
mention that block of marble in her presence, since she did not like it. I
replied: "So, then, you do not like me to act as the attorney of your
Excellencies, and to do my utmost to ensure your being better served? Reflect
upon it, my lady; if your most illustrious Excellencies think fit to open the
model for a Neptune to competition, although you are resolved to give it to
Bandinello, this will urge Bandinello for his own credit to display greater
art and science than if he knew he had no rivals. In this way, my princes, you
will be far better served, and will not discourage our school of artists; you
will be able to perceive which of us is eager to excel in the grand style of
our noble calling, and will show yourselves princes who enjoy and understand
the fine arts." The Duchess, in a great rage, told me that I tired her
patience out; she wanted the marble for Bandinello, adding: "Ask the Duke; for
his Excellency also means Bandinello to have it." When the Duchess had spoken,
the Duke, who had kept silence up to this time, said: "Twenty years ago I had
that fine block quarried especially for Bandinello, and so I mean that
Bandinello shall have it to do what he likes with it." I turned to the Duke
and spoke as follows: "My lord, I entreat your most illustrious Excellency to
lend a patient hearing while I speak four words in your service." He told me
to say all I wanted, and that he would listen. Then I began: "You will
remember, my lord, that the marble which Bandinello used for his Hercules and
Cacus was quarried for our incomparable Michel Agnolo Buonarroti. He had made
the model for a Samson with four figures, which would have been the finest
masterpiece in the whole world; but your Bandinello got out of it only two
figures, both ill-executed and bungled in the worst manner; wherefore our
school still exclaims against the great wrong which was done to that
magnificent block. I believe that more than a thousand sonnets were put up in
abuse of that detestable performance; and I know that your most illustrious
Excellency remembers the fact very well. Therefore, my powerful prince, seeing
how the men to whose care that work was entrusted, in their want of taste and
wisdom, took Michel Agnolo's marble away from him, and gave it to Bandinello,
who spoilt it in the way the whole world knows, oh! will you suffer this far
more splendid block, although it belongs to Bandinello, to remain in the hands
of that man who cannot help mangling it, instead of giving it to some artist
of talent capable of doing it full justice? Arrange, my lord, that every one
who likes shall make a model; have them all exhibited to the school; you then
will hear what the school thinks; your own good judgment will enable you to
select the best; in this way, finally, you will not throw away your money, nor
discourage a band of artists the like of whom is not to be found at present in
the world, and who form the glory of your most illustrious Excellency."

[Footnote 1: Instead of the Grieve, which is not a navigable stream, it
appears that Cellini ought to have written the Ombrone.]

[Footnote 2: This sculptor was born in 1511, and died in 1592. He worked under
Bandinelli and Sansovino.]

     The Duke listened with the utmost graciousness; then he rose from table,
and turning to me, said: "Go, my Benvenuto, make a model, and earn that fine
marble for yourself; for what you say is the truth, and I acknowledge it." The
Duchess tossed her head defiantly, and muttered I know not what angry
sentences.

     I made them a respectful bow and returned to Florence, burning with
eagerness to set hands upon my model.