‘Majordomo,’ I said, ‘so long as your lordship talks in a way that is in keeping with your noble rank, I shall respect you and address you as submissively as I do the Duke; but if you do otherwise, I shall talk to you as to the ordinary Ser Pier Francesco Riccio.’282
At this the fellow fell into such a rage that I thought he would go mad on the spot, and so make the process quicker than Heaven had decided. He retorted, with a volley of insults, that he wondered why he had deigned to allow me to talk to a man of his sort. I was provoked by this into saying:
‘Now listen to me, Ser Pier Francesco Riccio, while I tell you who are my sort and who are your sort – masters who teach children their letters.’
Then – with his face all contorted – he raised his voice and repeated even more insolently what he had said before. So I put on an aggressive expression, assumed some of his own arrogance, and told him that men like me were fit to talk with popes, and emperors, and a great king, and that likely as not there was only one man of my sort in the whole world; but you could find a dozen like him in any street doorway. At this he jumped up on to a window-seat that was in the hall, and then asked me to repeat over again the words I had just used. I did so, a little more heatedly, and I added that I no longer had any wish to serve the Duke and that I was going back to France, which I could do freely enough.
The brute remained where he was, stupefied, and with his face the colour of clay; and I went off in a fury, determined to clear out – and would to God I had done so. His Excellency the Duke could not have learned of this devilish encounter straight away since I waited several days without anything happening. I was no longer concerned with Florence, except as regards my sister and my little nieces, and I made arrangements for them to be taken care of. With the little money I had brought I wanted to leave them settled as best I could, and then as quickly as possible after that wanted to go back to France, and I did not care whether I ever saw Italy again.
I had made up my mind to hurry off as quickly as I could, without asking permission from the Duke or anyone else; and then one morning that majordomo of his own accord sent for me very humbly and embarked on a pedantic oration in which I could find not the slightest order, or grace, or wit, and which had neither beginning nor end. All I could grasp was that he claimed to be a good Christian and that he did not want to be at enmity with anyone, and he asked me on behalf of the Duke what salary I wanted for my upkeep. At this I stood there, busy with my own thoughts, and, as I did not intend to remain, I made no reply. When he saw me standing there without saying a word he at all events had the wit to say:
‘Benvenuto, dukes expect an answer; and I am talking to you on behalf of his Excellency.’
Then I said that if he was talking on behalf of his Excellency I was only too willing to give him an answer. He should tell his Excellency, I continued, that I had no intention of taking second place to any other artist in his service.
The majordomo replied: ‘Bandinello is paid two hundred crowns as his allowance, so if you’re content with that your salary is settled.’
I said that I was satisfied, that whatever more I deserved should be given me when my work was seen and that I left everything to the sound judgement of his Most Illustrious Excellency. So, against my will, I picked up the thread and set to work, with the Duke showing me every imaginable mark of favour.
I had been receiving frequent letters from France, from that very loyal friend of mine, Guido Guidi; up to then they had brought me nothing save good news. That Ascanio of mine also sent to say that I should only worry about enjoying myself, and that if anything happened he would let me know. The King was informed how I had begun working for the Duke of Florence, but, seeing that he was the best man in the world, he kept saying: ‘Why doesn’t Benvenuto come back?’ He questioned both of my young men in turn, and they both replied that I wrote to them saying that I was well off as I was and that I no longer wanted to return and serve the King. His Majesty was furious at this, and in response to those rash words, which never came from me, he said:
‘Since he left us without any cause whatsoever I shall never ask for him again: let him stay where he is.’
Those treacherous criminals had arranged matters the way they wanted, since if once I returned to France they returned to being workmen under me, as they were before; whereas if I did not come back, they remained free as they were, in my place. As a result they directed all their efforts to prevent my coming back.
While I was having the workshop built, so that I could begin the Perseus, I worked in a ground-floor room where I modelled the Perseus in plaster, the same size that the finished work was to be, with the idea of casting it from this mould. Then, coming to the conclusion that this procedure would take me rather too long, I hit on another expedient, since there had already been built, brick by brick, a shanty of a workshop, so wretchedly constructed that it makes me wince to remember it. I began the figure of Medusa, making an iron framework which I then covered with clay, and when I had finished that I baked it.
I had only one or two little apprentice lads, one of whom was very pretty; he was the son of a prostitute called Gambetta. I used this boy as a model,283 seeing that nature is the only book from which we can learn art. I tried to hire some workmen in order to hurry the work on, but I was unsuccessful, and I could not do everything by myself. There were some workmen in Florence who would willingly have joined me, but Bandinello immediately prevented my having them; and then, after he had made me do without them for a while, he told the Duke that I was trying to get hold of his men since I myself lacked the skill to make a great statue without help. I complained to the Duke of the great annoyance that beast was giving me and begged him to obtain for me some of the workmen from the Opera.284
This led to the Duke’s believing what Bandinello said to him: and when I became aware of this I decided that I would do as much as I could by myself. I set about it with the most exhausting efforts, and then the husband of my sister fell ill, and died within a few days.285 My sister was still a young woman, and he left her on my hands with her six children of all ages. This was my first great trial in Florence: to be left father and guardian to those unfortunate creatures.
However, I was anxious that nothing should go wrong, and as my garden was littered with rubbish I sent for two labourers, who were brought from the Ponte Vecchio. One of these was an old man of sixty, the other a young fellow of eighteen. After they had been with me about three days the young one told me that the old man had no liking for work, and that I would do better to send him away, seeing that not only did he not want to work himself but he also prevented his companion from working. He added that the little there was to be done he could do himself, and that there was no need to throw money away on other people: this young man’s name was Bernardino Mannellini of Mugello.286 Seeing his readiness to work hard I asked him if he would like to stay and be my servant; and we came to an agreement straight away. He used to look after my horse and work in the garden, and then he learned to help me in the workshop; and gradually he began to master the art with such a good grace that I’ve never had a better assistant. I was resolved to do everything with only his help, and I was beginning to show the Duke that Bandinello was a liar and that I could do very well without his workmen.
At that time my kidneys began to give me some pain and as I was unable to work I was only too glad to spend my time in the Duke’s wardrobe, along with some young goldsmiths called Gianpagolo and Domenico Poggini.287 I got them to make a little gold vessel, decorated in low relief with figures and other beautiful adornments; this was for the Duchess and had been ordered by her Excellency for drinking water out of. Besides this I was asked to make a gold girdle, which was also to be very richly worked with jewels and a number of pretty decorations such as little masks and so forth; and I did so.288 The Duke used to visit the wardrobe nearly every minute, and he took great pleasure watching us at work and talking to me.
As my kidneys had begun to get a
little better I had some clay brought to me, and while the Duke passed the time away with us I made a model of his head, much larger than life-size.289 He was tremendously pleased with this work and grew so fond of me that he said it would make him very happy indeed if it could be arranged for me to work in the palace: he would find some spacious apartments there and I should move in with my furnaces and all that I needed, because he took great pleasure in those things. I told his Excellency that this was not possible, because it would mean my not finishing my work in under a hundred years.
The Duchess began to heap favours on me, and she would have liked me to give all my attention to working for her and not to worry about the Perseus or anything of that sort. But when I took note of these meaningless marks of favour I knew that my perverse, malignant destiny could not delay long in overwhelming me with some fresh misfortune: all the time I was aware of how badly I had acted in the belief that I was doing everything for the best – I refer to the business in France.
The King could not swallow the affront he had received from my leaving, and yet he would have liked me to return so long as he did not lose face. For my part I thought I was completely in the right, and I did not want to humiliate myself; I was convinced that if I had lowered myself to the extent of writing humbly, those men, like the Frenchmen they were, would have said that this proved the sins I had committed, and that certain despicable acts of which I was accused were true. So I stood on my dignity, and wrote with some amount of pride, like a man who is in the right. And nothing could have more pleased those two treacherous apprentices of mine.
When I wrote to them I used to boast of the great favour that was being shown me in my native town by a lord and lady who were absolute rulers of the city of Florence, where I was born: so whenever they received a letter of that kind they would go along to the King and beg his Majesty to give them my castle, in the same way as he had given it to me. The King, who was a remarkably fine man, would never consent to what those great thieves asked so boldly, since he had begun to realize their evil intentions: but to throw them a sop, and to encourage me to return at once, he had a rather angry letter written me by one of his treasurers, Messer Giuliano Buonaccorsi, a Florentine citizen. The letter was to this effect: that if I wanted to keep my reputation of being an upright man, in view of the fact that I had left without cause I was certainly obliged to render an account of all that I had done and administered for his Majesty.
I was so gratified to receive this letter that I would not have altered it a jot, even if I could. I sat down to write and covered nine sheets of ordinary paper, giving in great detail an account of all the work I had done and everything that had happened while I was doing it; I described how much money I had spent and how I had always received it through two notaries and one of the King’s treasurers, and had obtained receipts from the individuals I had paid for their goods or their labour. As for myself, I had not pocketed a single coin, and I had not been given anything at all for my finished work; all I had brought into Italy were some marks of favours and some royal promises, as befitted his Majesty.
I was unable to claim, I went on, that I had gained anything from my work except for the allowances his Majesty had made me for my upkeep – and as regards them I was still owed more than seven hundred gold crowns, which I had left behind on purpose so that they could be sent to me for my safe return. I knew that some evil-minded men had done me a bad turn out of envy, but, I said, the truth always prevailed: I found my glory in his Most Christian Majesty, and I was not motivated by avarice. I said that, although I realized I had done much more for his Majesty than I had undertaken and that although the reward I was promised had not been forthcoming, I had no want in the world other than to retain his Majesty’s favour and be regarded as the upright and honourable man I had always been. If there was any doubt of this in his Majesty’s mind, I continued, at the slightest sign I would return like a shot to give an account of myself, even at the risk of my life. But seeing so little account taken of me I had not wanted to return and offer my services, because I knew that I would always be able to earn my bread wherever I went: if I were sent for, however, I would never fail to respond.
My letter contained a host of other details fit for that splendid King to read, and in vindication of my honour. I carried the letter to the Duke before sending it, and he took pleasure in looking at it; then, without delay, I sent it to France, addressed to the Cardinal of Ferrara.
At that time Bernardo Baldini,290 who acted as his Excellency’s agent in the purchase of precious stones, had a huge diamond weighing more than thirty-five carats brought from Venice: Antonio di Vittorio Landi was also interested in getting the Duke to buy it. The diamond had already been cut to a point, but as it did not possess the limpidity and lustre that one expects from such a stone, its owners had shorn off the point, and in fact it was not much good, either for table-cutting or cut to a point. The Duke, who took a great pleasure in jewels but knew nothing about them, gave that rascal of a Bernardo every reason to believe that he would buy the diamond; and as Bernardo wanted to keep for himself the privilege of perpetrating this deceit on the Duke of Florence, he did not confide a word of what he was doing to that partner of his, Antonio Landi.
This Antonio had been a very close friend of mine since boyhood and, seeing that I was on such intimate terms with the Duke, one day he called me aside (it was near midday, in a corner of the New Market) and said:
‘Benvenuto, I’m certain that the Duke is going to show you a diamond which it seems he wants to buy: it’ll be a large diamond, and you must help sell it. I can tell you that I’ll let it go for seventeen thousand crowns. I’m sure that the Duke will seek your advice, and if you see that he’s keen to have it I shall arrange matters to make sure he does.’
He seemed to be very certain of his being able to dispose of the diamond. I promised him that if it were shown to me and my opinion asked, I would say just what I thought, without prejudice to the jewel. Now, as I said above, every day the Duke used to come into that goldsmith’s workshop and stay there several hours. More than a week from the time when Antonio Landi had spoken to me, one day after dinner the Duke showed me the diamond, which I recognized from the indications Antonio had given me of its shape and weight. Since the stone was, as I said above, of a rather muddy water (that was why they had shorn off the point) on seeing it I would certainly have advised against its purchase. So when he showed it to me, I asked his Excellency what he wanted me to say, on the grounds that it was a very different matter if a jeweller had to value a stone after his lord had bought it, from his valuing it so that he could make up his mind as to buying it. So then his Excellency said that he had in fact bought it, and that I was only to give my opinion. I could not help giving him some slight indication of how little I thought of it. He told me that I should consider the beauty of the diamond’s long edges. At this I said that they were not as wonderfully beautiful as his Excellency imagined, and that what beauty there was as far as this was concerned was because of the point’s being shorn off. The Duke, who realized that I was speaking the truth, frowned unpleasantly at this and told me to get on with my valuation and tell him what I thought it was worth.
Reflecting that as Antonio Landi had offered it to me for seventeen thousand crowns the Duke must have obtained it for at the most fifteen thousand, and seeing that he did not like it when I was honest with him, I thought I would not disillusion him, passed him the diamond, and said: ‘You paid eighteen thousand crowns.’
At this he cried out, making an O! bigger than the mouth of a well, and said: ‘Now I’m convinced you know nothing about these things.’
I said: ‘In fact, my lord, you’re convinced wrongly. You concern yourself with keeping your jewel’s good name, and I’ll concern myself with understanding these matters: tell me at least how much you spent on it, so that I may learn to understand things in your Excellency’s light.’
He rose with rather a scornful sneer and said: ‘It cost m
e twenty-five thousand crowns and more, Benvenuto…’ and then he went away.
The goldsmiths Gianpagolo and Domenico Poggini were present while this was going on, and the embroiderer Bachiacca291 was working in a room next to ours: when he heard all the hubbub he ran in himself.
I said: ‘I would never have advised him to buy it; but if he had wanted it all the same, a week ago Antonio Landi offered it to me for seventeen thousand crowns: I think I’d have got it for fifteen or less. But the Duke means to safeguard his jewel’s reputation. After Antonio Landi offered it to me at such a price, how the devil can Bernardo have worked such a foul swindle!’
Refusing to believe that it could be possible, we passed off the Duke’s naïvety with a laugh.
As I said, I had already begun work on the figure of the large Medusa, and had constructed its iron framework. Then I covered it in clay, with anatomical correctness, half a finger thinner, and baked it thoroughly. Then I spread on the wax, and finished it as I wanted it to be. The Duke had come to see it very often and he was so worried that I might not succeed with the bronze that he would have liked me to call in some expert to cast it for me.
Meanwhile his Excellency was always talking with great admiration of my artistic skill. And then his majordomo, who was forever on the look-out for some way to make me break my neck, hit on a way to do it. He had authority over the police officers and all the officials of that poor unfortunate city of Florence: to think that this incredibly ignorant man, an enemy of ours born in Prato and the son of a cooper, should have won such great authority by having been the miserable tutor to Cosimo de’ Medici before he became Duke! Anyhow, as I was saying, he was always on the look-out for some way of harming me, and after he had been unable to find any pretext for bringing an accusation against me he then thought up a way of achieving his end. He went along to the mother of my shopboy, Cencio, and the two of them – that dishonest whore Gambetta, and that villain of a pedagogue – plotted together to give me such a fright that I would pack my bags and go. Gambetta, using the methods of her own profession, followed in the wake of that mad, wicked schoolmaster of a majordomo, and they were also leagued with the chief constable (who was a certain Bolognese the Duke later on banished for this sort of behaviour).
The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini Page 41