The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini

by Benvenuto Cellini

  As this fellow had several good-for-nothing sons, my father said very tellingly:

  ‘Accidents can happen to anyone, especially to quick-tempered men who are in the right, as my son was. But his life since then proves how well I brought him up. I hope to God for your sake that your sons behave towards you neither better nor worse than mine do to me. God taught me how to bring them up, and then when my strength failed, despite what you expected, He himself rescued them from your violence.’

  Then after he had left him he wrote telling me everything that had happened. In his letter he begged me for the love of God to play a little music now and then, so that I would not lose the wonderful talent he had been at such pains to teach me. He wrote with such fatherly affection that like the loving son I was I burst into tears, determined that as far as music was concerned I would make him thoroughly happy before he died; so God does indeed grant men all the legitimate requests they honestly make to Him.

  While I was working hard on the Bishop’s beautiful vase I had only one small boy helping me. I had taken him on as my assistant, giving in to the pressure of friends and half against my own will. His name was Paulino and he was about fourteen; he was the son of a Roman citizen who lived on a private income. This Paulino had the most perfect manners, the most honest character, and the prettiest face of any I have ever come across in all my life. His honest way of behaving and his incredible beauty and the great love he showed me made me love him in turn almost more than I could bear. I loved him so passionately that I was always playing music for him, in order to see his lovely face, which was normally rather sad and serious, brighten up when he heard it. Whenever I took up the cornet such a frank, beautiful smile came over his face that I am not at all surprised at those silly stories the Greeks wrote about their gods. In fact if Paulino had been alive in those days he might have unhinged them even more.

  He had a sister called Faustina who was even more beautiful, I think, than the Faustina the ancient books are always babbling about.30 Sometimes I used to visit their vineyard and from what I could judge it appeared to me that Paulino’s father, a thoroughly worthy man, would have liked me as a son-in-law. All this made me play a great deal more than usual.

  It was about this time that a man called Gianiacomo, who was a fifer from Cesena in the service of the Pope, and a splendid musician, got in touch with me. He sent a message through Lorenzo, the trumpeter from Lucca who is now serving our Duke of Florence, asking me if I would help them at the Pope’s August festival31 in some very beautiful motets they had chosen, by playing the soprano part on my cornet. Although I was burning to finish my wonderful vase, as music is a marvellous business anyway, and to give my father some satisfaction, I was quite ready to join them. We spent a week before the festival practising together two hours a day. On the day itself we went along to the Belvedere,32 and while Pope Clement was having dinner we played the motets we had rehearsed so well that he had to admit he had never heard music played more exquisitely or more harmoniously. Then he called Gianiacomo over and asked him how and where he had put his hands on such a fine cornet-player. He questioned him closely as to who I was, and Gianiacomo told him my full name.

  ‘So he is Giovanni’s son?’ said the Pope. Gianiacomo told him that this was so, and then the Pope said that he would like me to enter his service along with the other musicians. To this Gianiacomo replied:

  ‘Holy Father, I can’t promise you anything definite about that, because he is a goldsmith by profession and that takes up all his time. What’s more, he’s a first-rate craftsman and he earns far more than he would as a musician.’

  ‘I want him all the more as he has this unexpected accomplishment as well,’ said the Pope. ‘See to it that he receives the same pay as the rest of you, and tell him from me that he is to enter my service, and it won’t be long before I give him plenty to keep him busy at his other trade.’

  Then he stretched out his hand and gave Gianiacomo a hundred gold crowns of the Camera, tied up in a handkerchief, saying: ‘Divide this up so that Benvenuto gets his share.’

  Gianiacomo then came back and told us exactly what the Pope had said. He divided the money between the eight of us, gave me my share, and added: ‘I’m going to have you registered as one of us.’

  I replied: ‘Let it rest for today, and I’ll give you a definite answer tomorrow.’

  Then I left them and went on my way debating with myself as to whether I ought to accept the offer, considering how upsetting it would be if I abandoned my fine studies. The following night my father appeared to me in a dream: he was crying affectionately, and he begged me for his sake and for the love of God to set out on this new path. I seemed to reply that there was nothing that could persuade me into doing so; and then all at once he appeared to assume a terrible shape and filled with terror I heard him say: ‘If you don’t, you’ll know what a father’s curse is like, but if you do, may I always pour my blessings on you.’

  When I woke up I was so frightened that I ran to have myself registered. After that I wrote and told my old father what I had done, and he was so deliriously happy that he made himself ill and was very near to dying. In his reply he wrote that he too had had almost exactly the same dream as me.

  I decided that as I had satisfied my good father’s honest wishes everything should now work out beautifully for me, bringing glory and honour. So I worked very diligently to finish the vase I had begun for the Bishop of Salamanca. He was a marvellous sort of man, very rich, but very hard to please. Every day he used to send someone along to find out what I was up to, and on one occasion, when his messenger found me out, the Bishop lost his temper and swore that he would take the work away from me and give it to someone else to finish. This was all because of my giving my time to that damned music.

  All the same, I worked at the vase very diligently, day and night, till it reached the stage where I could show it to him. As a result the Bishop grew so impatient to have it finished that I regretted having let him see it. At the end of three months it was done. It was adorned with a wonderful variety of pretty little animals, and leaves, and masks. Straight away I sent my boy round to show it to that expert craftsman, Lucagnolo.

  Paulino, with his infinite grace and charm, said:

  ‘Lucagnolo, sir, Benvenuto says that, as he promised, here’s your sort of balls, and now he’s waiting to see some of his pimping little trash.’

  Lucagnolo took the vase in his hand and studied it very carefully. Then he said to Paulino:

  ‘My pretty little boy, tell your master that he’s a very fine craftsman, and that I beg him to be my friend and leave it at that.’

  The result of that splendid young lad’s errand made me very happy. I took the vase along to Salamanca and he decided to have it valued. Lucagnolo took part in the valuation, and he put a higher price on it and praised it far more than I would have done. Then Salamanca took hold of the vase and like a typical Spaniard said: ‘I swear to God that I’ll take as long to pay him as he took over making it.’

  When I heard this I found myself in a very nasty frame of mind, cursing all Spain and anyone who stood up for the country.

  Now among its other beautiful adornments this vase had a handle all in one piece that was very delicately made and by means of a spring could move upwards over the mouth. One day Salamanca was showing my vase off to some of his Spanish gentlemen when, after he himself had left the room, one of them started tricking about with the beautiful handle. The delicate spring could not stand up to such rough treatment and broke in his hand. Realizing the harm he had done he begged the butler who was in charge of the vase to take it round straight away to the craftsman who had made it and have it mended immediately. He promised to pay whatever was asked, provided it were done on the spot.

  So the vase fell into my hands again. I promised to mend it instantly, and I did so. It was brought to me before dinner. Two hours before nightfall the man who had carried it along to me came back, sweating all over from having
run the whole way because Salamanca was asking for it again to show some other noblemen. Before I could say a word he cried out: ‘Be quick about it – bring the vase.’

  Then I, who was intending to take my time and had no wish to give it to him, said that I did not mean to be all that quick. This threw him into such a rage that he went as if to grasp his sword with one hand, while with the other he threatened to force a way into the shop.

  I at once barred his way, thrusting a weapon towards him and shouting out fiercely: ‘I don’t mean you to have it. Go and tell your master that I intend to be paid for my work before I let it out of this shop.’

  Realizing that his bluster had failed, he started pleading with me, just as if he were praying at the foot of the Cross. He said that if I gave it to him he would make absolutely sure that I was paid. But he made no impression on me at all, and I kept repeating what I had already said. In the end he gave up hope and swore that he would come back with enough Spaniards to cut me to pieces. Then he ran off, leaving me determined to defend myself vigorously, since I was inclined to credit what I heard about their murderous habits. I loaded a splendid little gun that I kept for hunting, and I said to myself: ‘He’s robbed me of my property and labour, am I going to sell him my life as well?’

  While I was in this state of agitation a crowd of Spaniards appeared on the scene, led by their majordomo. With typical arrogance this fellow ordered them to march in, seize the vase, and give me a thrashing. When I heard this I showed them the muzzle of my loaded gun and roared out: ‘You treacherous curs33 – so is this how you loot the shops and houses in a city like Rome? Any one of you that makes a move towards this door, I’ll shoot the thief dead.’

  Then, pointing the gun at the majordomo as if I were about to fire, I added: ‘And as for you, you thieving ringleader, I mean to kill you first.’

  Straight away he dug his spurs into his jennet and galloped off as madly as he could. The tremendous hubbub brought all my neighbours out; and as well as this some Roman gentlemen who happened to be passing shouted out: ‘Kill the curs, and we’ll give you a hand.’ This was said with such vehemence that the Spaniards were terrified out of their wits and beat a retreat. So, seeing what had happened, they were forced to tell the whole story to the Bishop. He was a very hot-tempered man, and he gave them all – servants and officers – a thorough dressing-down, first because of their trying to commit such an outrage, and then because once they had begun it they had not gone through with it.

  Then the painter who had been concerned in the transaction came in, and the Bishop gave him instructions to tell me from him that if I did not bring the vase immediately the largest part left of me would be my ears, but that if I did bring it he would pay me on the spot. All this did not frighten me in the slightest, and I let him know that I would go and tell the Pope without hesitation. However his anger vanished, and so did my fear. Some important Roman noblemen gave me their word that he would not harm me, and as well as that I was assured that he would pay up. So, prepared with a hefty dagger and with my good coat of mail, I went along to the Bishop’s palace.

  I made my way in, with Paulino carrying the silver vase behind me, and found all his household drawn up waiting. It was just like walking through the middle of the Zodiac – one of them looked like a lion, another like a scorpion, the third like a crab, and so on till we were face-to-face with that scoundrel of a priest. He started spitting out a stream of abuse, like the priest and Spaniard he was, but I stared at the ground and refused to say a word.

  This made him show his temper more than ever. He ordered some writing materials to be brought to me, and then he said that I was to write in my own hand that I was quite satisfied and that I had received my payment. At this I raised my head and told him that I would be only too glad to do so, provided I was given the money first. The blood rushed to his face, and there was no end of threatening and argument. The upshot was that I was paid first and did the writing afterwards. And I went away, happy and satisfied.

  Later on, when the Pope, who had seen the vase before without being told it was my work, heard what had happened, he was vastly amused, praised me to the skies, and said in public that he was very fond of me indeed. As a result the Bishop of Salamanca regretted the way he had bullied me and tried for a reconciliation by sending word through the same painter as before to the effect that he wanted me to do some very important work for him. I replied that I was only too glad to hear this, but that I would want to be paid in advance. This exchange also came to the ears of Pope Clement and made him roar with laughter.

  He told Cardinal Cibo,34 who was with him at the time, about the quarrel I had had with this bishop; then he turned to one of his officials and instructed him to keep me constantly employed on work for the palace. Cardinal Cibo sent for me, and after we had chatted pleasantly commissioned me to make a large vase for him, bigger than the one Salamanca had ordered. Besides this I was given work to do by Cardinal Cornaro and by many other cardinals, especially Ridolfi and Salviati:35 they all gave me work to do. As a result I made a great deal of money.

  Madonna Porzia, whom I talked about before, told me that I ought to open a shop all of my own. I did what she suggested and all the time I carried on working for this good and gracious lady, who paid me very generously. In fact more than likely it was because of her that I showed the world I was somebody. At the same time I struck up a great friendship with Signor Gabriello Ceserino, who was the Governor of Rome; and I did a lot of work for him. One of the outstanding things I made was a large gold medal to be worn in his hat, with a Leda and her swan engraved on it. He was very pleased with it and insisted on having it valued so that I would be paid a fair price. But the medal had been made with exquisite care and skill and the valuers put a far higher price on it than he had expected. So it remained on my hands, and I got nothing for my pains. That medal suffered the very same fate as Salamanca’s vase had done. But I shall have to skip these stories, in case they take up the space for more important matters.

  Although it means wandering away from my profession, I want to write about my whole life. So without going into detailed descriptions I shall have to sketch some other events for the reader. Well then, one morning – it was the feast of St John36 – I was dining with a large number of compatriots of mine who all followed various professions. There were painters and sculptors and goldsmiths, and among these outstanding men was the painter, Rosso,37 and a pupil of Raphael called Gianfrancesco. I had brought them all together informally and they were laughing and joking as a crowd of men always does when such a wonderful feast day is being celebrated.

  In the middle of it all, a feather-brained young swaggerer, one of Rienzo da Ceri’s soldiers,38 happened to pass by. When he heard the noise we were making, he started mocking and hurling insults about the Florentines. As host to all those accomplished artists I took this as a personal affront and so, very softly, without being noticed, I went out and confronted him. He was standing there with his tart, carrying on with his jeering to make her laugh. I went straight up to him and demanded if he was the fellow who had been rash enough to insult the Florentines. He immediately retorted: ‘I’m that very man.’ When he said that, I lifted my hand, hit him in the face, and shouted: ‘Then I’m this very man.’

  At once we both snatched at our swords, but no sooner had the fight begun than we were separated. Everyone took my part rather than his, because they clearly witnessed that I was in the right.

  Next day he sent round a challenge which I was only too glad to accept, saying that this business was something I could polish off far quicker than any of my ordinary work. I immediately went to confer with a fine old fellow called Bevilacqua, who had the reputation of having been the best swordsman in Italy. He had fought more than twenty duels in his time, and come out of them all with honour. This upright man was a great friend of mine; he knew me as a goldsmith, and besides that he had acted as a go-between in some violent quarrels I had had.

  So as so
on as he saw me, he said: ‘My dear Benvenuto, if you had to fight a duel with Mars himself I’m sure you’d come out of it with honour. All the years I’ve known you I’ve never seen you start a quarrel in the wrong.’

  He took on the job of second and we went along, armed, to the place that had been agreed on. In fact no blood was shed, because my opponent withdrew. I came out of the affair with honour. I shall not give any more details, since, although they would be very impressive of their kind, I want to save my breath to talk about my art, as that after all is why I am writing. Even then, I still have too much to tell.

  Moved by a spirit of honest rivalry I wanted to do the kind of work in which I could equal and even surpass that expert craftsman, Lucagnolo. But at the same time I never abandoned my wonderful jeweller’s art. So what with one and the other I earned a great deal of money and even more fame. And in both those arts I produced original work.

  At that time there was living in Rome a very able man from Perugia, called Lautizio.39 He specialized in one kind of art, but in it he was unique in the world. Now, in Rome, every cardinal has his own seal, with his coat of arms engraved on it. These seals are made just about the size of a twelve-year-old’s hand, and a variety of figures are cut on them together, as I said, with the cardinal’s arms. One of these seals, well made, fetches a hundred crowns and more.

  I had an honest ambition to compete with this man as well, even though his kind of art is different from all other branches of the goldsmith’s craft – which is why Lautizio only knew how to make seals. So I set out to make myself expert in his profession, though I found it very difficult indeed. All the same, for all the trouble it gave me, I never tired of it, and kept hard at work in search of profit and knowledge.

  There was another first-rate artist in Rome, a Milanese called Caradosso.40 He specialized in medals, chiselled on metal plate, and many other things of that kind. He made paxes in half relief, and figures of Christ, about a hand’s length in size, cut out of very fine gold plate. These were so beautifully executed that I reckoned him the greatest artist of his kind that I had ever come across, and I was more anxious to rival him than I was anyone else. There were also some other craftsmen who worked at cutting medals out of steel. These medals are the matrices and true guide for anyone who wants to excel at making coins.