The Duke immediately said: ‘My Benvenuto, who has made a very fine model for it.’
And this was reported to me by men who can be trusted. As a result I went to find the Duchess and brought her some pretty little trinkets which pleased her immensely. She then asked me what work I was engaged on, and I answered:
‘My lady, I have undertaken for my pleasure, one of the most laborious works ever produced by anyone: I am doing a figure of the Crucified, in snow-white marble, on a cross of the blackest marble, and it stands as high as a tall living man.’
At once she asked me what I meant to do with it, and I answered:
‘I must tell you, my lady, that I wouldn’t sell it for two thousand gold ducats, for no man has ever put such effort into such a work; still less would I undertake to do it for any patron whatsoever, for fear of disgracing myself by the result. I bought the slabs of marble out of my own money, and I have had a young man helping me for about two years; and what with the marble, and the iron support, and his wages, it has cost me more than three hundred crowns. So I wouldn’t sell it for two thousand gold crowns. But if your Most Illustrious Excellency will do me one harmless favour, I’ll be only too glad to give it to you as a free gift: all I ask is that your Excellency neither favours nor speaks against me in the matter of the models that his Excellency has commissioned to be made of Neptune for the great block of marble.’
She said very angrily: ‘So you set no store by my help or my opposition?’
‘Rather,’ I replied, ‘I do set store by them, my lady: or why do I offer to give you what I set store by to the amount of two thousand ducats? But I have so much confidence in the laborious and meticulous studies I have done that I rely on winning the contest, even were it against that great Michelangelo Buonarroti, from whom alone and from no one else I have learnt all I know. And I’d be far more pleased if he who knows so much should make a model, rather than those who know so little. For by competing with this great master of mine I’d gain a great deal of honour, whereas with these others I cannot gain a thing.’
When I said this she rose from her seat, with some show of anger, and I went back to my work and made as much progress as I could with the model. Then, after I had finished it, the Duke came to see it. There were two ambassadors with him, one from the Duke of Ferrara and the other from the Signory of Lucca. His Excellency was very pleased with the model and said to the two noblemen with him: ‘Benvenuto certainly deserves to win.’
Then both of them began praising me to the skies, especially the ambassador from Lucca, who was a very learned scholar. I had drawn apart a little so that they could say what they thought, but when I heard their compliments I immediately approached them, and turning towards the Duke I said:
‘My lord, here is another excellent step your Excellency should take: you should give orders that whoever wants to may make a model in clay of exactly the same size as the figure one can get from the marble, and then your Excellency will be in a far better position to judge who deserves it. Let me add that if your Excellency gives the marble to someone who doesn’t deserve it, it won’t injure the man who does deserve it so much as you yourself, because it will be to your own loss and shame. But if you do the opposite and give it to the man who deserves it you’ll acquire great honour, you’ll be spending your treasure wisely, and the artists will recognize that you’re a man of taste and understanding.’
As soon as I finished the Duke shrugged his shoulders and began to move away in order to leave; then the ambassador from Lucca said to him:
‘My lord, this Benvenuto of yours is a terrible fellow.’
‘He’s much more terrible than you imagine,’ replied the Duke, ‘and it would be better for him were he less so, because he would now have had things he has lost.’
These exact words were repeated to me by that same ambassador, as if to urge me to behave differently. I told him that, as a loving faithful servant, I was fond of my master, and I didn’t know how to play the flatterer. Then a few weeks later Bandinello died:356 it was believed that, leaving aside his excesses, the shock he received over the prospect of losing the marble was the main cause of his death.
Bandinello had heard about my making the Crucifix that I mentioned above, and he straight away set to work on a piece of marble and made the Pietà that can be seen in the church of the Annunziata. I had made over my Crucifix to Santa Maria Novella and had already fixed the hooks for it, asking only that I should be allowed to construct on the ground under the foot of my Crucifix a little tomb to receive me after I was dead. The brothers told me that they could not allow this without asking their vestry-board.
At this I said to them: ‘But, brothers, then why didn’t you ask the committee about allowing me to put the Crucifix up, seeing that you’ve allowed me to fix up the hooks and the other things without their permission?’
So as a result of this I was no longer willing to give the church of Santa Maria Novella the fruits of my arduous labours, even though the committee afterwards came to find me and begged me for the work. Instead I at once approached the church of the Annunziata and explained my wishes as I had to Santa Maria Novella. The holy friars of the Annunziata were all agreed in telling me that I should place it in their church,357 and build my sepulchre there, in whatever way I liked and thought suitable. When this came to Bandinello’s ears he set to work very diligently in the attempt to finish his Pietà, and he asked the Duchess to obtain for him the Pazzi chapel. This was done with some difficulty, and as soon as it was assured he erected his work in a tremendous hurry. It was not completely finished before he died. The Duchess said that she had helped him while he was alive, and that she would also help him now he was dead: she said that although he was dead I should put all thoughts of getting that block of marble out of my head. And then one day, when I met him in the country, Bernardo the broker told me that the Duchess had disposed of the marble.
‘Oh, what unfortunate marble!’ I replied. ‘It would have suffered at the hands of Bandinello, but it’s a hundred times worse off with Ammannati!’358
The Duke had commissioned me to make a clay model of the height that the marble would allow, and he had seen to it that I was supplied with wood and clay, besides having a small screen set up in the Loggia where my Perseus is, and paying a labourer for me. I set to work as energetically as possible and, following my own reliable principles, I built the wooden framework and brought the work cheerfully towards completion, not worrying about whether I did it in marble or not, since the Duchess was determined on my not having it, so I refused to care. In fact I was pleased to go to such trouble and I promised myself that when I had finished it the Duchess, who after all was a person of intelligence, as I found out later, would regret that she had done the marble and herself a great wrong.
Besides me, Giovanni the Fleming359 made a model in the cloisters of Santa Croce, and Vincenzio Danti360 of Perugia made one in the house of Messer Ottaviano de’ Medici. Another was begun by the son of Moschino361 at Pisa, and yet another was done by Bartolomeo Ammanati in the Loggia, which we had divided between us. I had already blocked it out well, and I was intending to begin final work on the head, which I had already marked out roughly, when the Duke arrived from the palace and was led by the painter Giorgetto362 into Ammanati’s workshop to let him see the Neptune on which Giorgetto had worked himself a good few days, along with Ammanati and all his assistants.
While the Duke was inspecting it, it was said to me that he was not at all satisfied; and then, when Giorgetto wanted to spout his rigmarole, the Duke shook his head and turning to Messer Gianstefano said:
‘Go and ask Benvenuto if his giant is far enough advanced for us to be given a look at it.’
Gianstefano with great courtesy and kindness gave me the Duke’s message and added that if I did not think my work was ready to show I was to tell him without hesitation, since the Duke knew perfectly well that in that tremendous undertaking I had had very little assistance. I said that I would
be grateful if he would come, and that although my work was little advanced his Excellency was so perceptive that he would be able to tell accurately what it would be like when finished.
So that gentleman brought word back to the Duke and he came very willingly. As soon as he entered the workshop he stared at my work and showed how very pleased he was with it. Then he walked all round it, stopping to inspect it from all four sides just as an expert would have done. And then he gave signs of his evident satisfaction, merely remarking: ‘Benvenuto, you have only to give it the final
surface.’
Then turning to his companions he praised my work very highly.
‘The little model I saw in his house,’ he said, ‘I find very delightful, but this is even more excellent.’
As it pleased God, who always arranges things for our good (I am talking of those who acknowledge and believe in Him: God always defends them), my path was crossed by a certain rogue from Vicchio, called Piermaria d’Anterigoli: he was nicknamed Sbietta. He works as a sheep farmer, and as he is closely related to Guido Guidi, the doctor who is today Provost of Pescia, I listened to what he had to say. He offered to sell me one of his farms for the term of my natural life. I was unwilling to go and see the farm beforehand, because I was anxious to finish my model of the giant Neptune, and also because there was no need to do so as he sold it to me as an investment, which he had calculated for me in so many bushels of grain, so much wine, oil, corn, chestnuts, and so forth. I worked it out that at the period we were in all this was worth well over a hundred gold crowns, and I gave him six hundred and fifty crowns, including taxes.
As he had left me a guarantee, written in his own hand, that he would always provide me with the same income as long as I lived, I did not worry about going to see the farm. But all the same as well as I was able I found out whether Sbietta and Ser Filippo, his brother, were prosperous enough to make me secure. By a good number of various people, who knew them, I was assured that I was as secure as could be wished. Then by agreement we sent for Ser Pierfrancesco Bertoldi, notary to the Mercatanzia, and first of all I handed him the note containing all that Sbietta meant to keep up for me, in the belief that it would appear in the contract. But the notary who drew it up was attending to the twenty-two boundaries which Sbietta enumerated and so, I believe, he forgot to include in the contract what the seller had offered me: and while the notary was writing I was getting on with my work. As it took him several hours to write it down I had time to make a good part of the Neptune’s head. When the contract was completed Sbietta began to behave towards me with extraordinary affection, which I returned. He presented me with kids, cheeses, capons, curds, and a variety of fruits, so that it became almost embarrassing. In return for his affectionate generosity, every time he visited Florence I made him leave his inn and stay with me, often with one or more of the relations who were with him.
Then in a charming way he began to say that it was a shame that after I had bought a farm so many weeks had already passed without my making up my mind to leave my work to my assistants for a few days and go and see it. His subtle pleadings were so effective that, in an evil hour, I did go to see it. Sbietta received me in his house with such affection and ceremony that he could not have put himself out more for a duke, and his wife treated me even more warmly than he. So we carried on for a while after this fashion, till all that the two of them – he and his brother, Ser Filippo – had plotted to do was ready.
I did not neglect to work hard on the Neptune, which I had already blocked out, as I said before, using a first-rate method which no one ever used or knew before me. So although I was certain that the marble was not mine to have – for the reasons I gave above – I thought that I would finish the work quickly and immediately display it on the piazza, merely for my own satisfaction. As the weather was warm and pleasant and those two rogues were treating me with every possible kindness, one Wednesday – it was a double feast day – I set out for my country house at Trespiano. I had eaten a good lunch, so it was less than three hours before nightfall when I arrived at Vicchio. Straight away I ran into Ser Filippo at the gate of Vicchio. He seemed to know that I was coming, overwhelmed me with his attentions, and led me to Sbietta’s house, where we found his bitch of a wife, who also gave me an enthusiatic welcome. I presented her with a very fine straw hat, and she said she had never seen a more beautiful one. Sbietta himself was away at the time.
As evening came on we had supper together, very agreeably, and then I was given an excellent room, where I slept in a spotless bed. And my two servants were treated the same way, according to their status. Next morning, after I had got up and been treated with the same attention as before, I went to visit my farm, which I found very satisfactory. I was handed over so much grain and other kinds of corn, and then returned to Vicchio. After I arrived there, the priest, Ser Filippo, said to me:
‘Benvenuto, don’t worry: although you haven’t found everything just as you were promised there’s no need to trouble youself, it will be maintained for your profit, because you’re dealing with honest people. I must tell you that we’ve sacked the labourer, because he was a bad lot.’
This labourer was called Mariano Rosegli; and afterwards he often said to me: ‘Keep an eye on your affairs – in the end you’ll find out which of us is the worse lot.’ When he told me this the yokel sniggered in a nasty way, tossing his head as if to say: ‘Go there and you’ll discover for yourself.’ I was rather disturbed at this but I never guessed anything of what was to happen to me.
Anyhow, after I had returned from the farm, which is two miles distant from Vicchio, towards the Alps, I found the priest waiting for me with his usual charming welcome. We all went to have lunch together; it was a light repast rather than a full meal. Afterwards I went for a stroll through Vicchio. The market had already begun and I found myself stared at by all the inhabitants as if there were something strange about me. I noticed that I was being stared at more than by anyone else by an honest old fellow who has lived many years in Vicchio, and whose wife bakes and sells bread. He has several good properties of his own about a mile from the place, but he’s content to remain as he is. The worthy fellow lives in a house belonging to me, in Vicchio, made over to me with the farm, which is called the Fountain Farm.
He began saying to me: ‘I’m living in your house, and when it’s due I shall give you your rent; or if you require it beforehand I shall do exactly as you want. All I need say is that there’ll never be cause for disagreement with me.’
While we were talking together I noticed that he was fixing his eyes on me intently, and I couldn’t help saying:
‘Here tell me, my dear Giovanni, why do you keep staring at me so hard?’
The honest fellow replied: ‘I’ll be only too glad to tell you why, if you promise like the good man you are not to let it be known that I’ve done so.’
I promised what he asked; and then he said:
‘I must tell you that that lout of a priest, that Ser Filippo, not many days ago went around boasting how clever his brother Sbietta was, and how he had sold his farm to an old man for his lifetime, who wouldn’t last out the year. You’ve got mixed up with some rascals so take care you live as long as possible, and keep your eyes open, because you need to. I won’t say any more.’
While I was walking about in the market-place I ran into Giovanbatista Santini, and he and I were taken to supper by the priest: as I’ve already said, it was about four hours before sunset, and we had an early meal to suit my convenience because I had said that I wanted to return to Trespiano that evening. So everything was prepared quickly, with Sbietta’s wife busying herself about the place, together with a hanger-on of theirs called Cecchino Buti. After the salads had been mixed and we were about to sit down, that evil priest gave one of his malicious smiles and said:
‘You must excuse me, but I can’t have supper with you as I have some very important business to transact for my brother Sbietta. As he’s not here I have to see t
o it for him.’
We all begged him, but we could not make him change his mind; and he went off and we began eating. After we had eaten the salad from some plates which served for all of us, we were given a bowl each and helped to the boiled meat. At this point Santini, who was sitting opposite me, said: ‘You’re being given crockery different from the rest: did you ever see anything finer?’
I told him that I hadn’t noticed it. Then he told me that I should call Sbietta’s wife to come and eat. She and that Cecchino Buti were running backwards and forwards, both of them extraordinarily busy. In the end I got her to sit down, and she began saying in a grumbling voice: ‘My food doesn’t please you, you’re hardly eating a thing.’
I praised the supper over and over again, insisting that I had never eaten better food or with a better appetite, and then I said I had eaten just as much as I wanted. I never dreamt why she insisted so much on my eating. By the time we had finished it was less than three hours to nightfall, and I was anxious to return to Trespiano that night so that the next day I would be able to get on with my work in the Loggia. So I said good-bye to everyone, thanked the woman, and made off.
I had not gone three miles when I began to feel as if my stomach was burning, and I was in such agonies that it seemed an eternity before I arrived at my farm at Trespiano. As it pleased God, I arrived during the night, utterly exhausted, and at once got ready for bed. I could not sleep a wink all night, and what was more my bowels kept moving and several times I was forced to go to the closet. When dawn came I felt my anus burning, turned to see what it was, and found that part of my clothing all covered with blood.
I guessed straight away that I must have eaten something poisonous, and over and over again tried hard to think what it could have been. And then I remembered the plates and the bowls, and the little platters, different from the others, that were given to me by Sbietta’s wife; and then I remembered how that wicked priest, Sbietta’s brother, had worn himself out in looking after me and then had not wanted to stay for supper with us. I also recalled what he had said about his brother Sbietta having made such a fine deal by selling a farm to an old man for the duration of his life, when the old man would never last out the year. These words had been reported to me by that honest fellow, Giovanni Sardella. So I came to the conclusion that they had given me a helping of sublimate in a little bowl of sauce which had been very well made and very tasty. It must have been sublimate because sublimate causes all the symptoms I found I had; I am in the habit of using only a little sauce or condiment, other than salt, with my meat, but as it happened I ate two little mouthfuls of that sauce since it was so delicious. And I went on to remember how Sbietta’s wife had pressed me in various ways to eat the sauce. So then I was convinced that they had given me that dose of sublimate with the sauce.
The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini Page 49