The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini

by Benvenuto Cellini

  My sword fell with such tremendous force on Luigi’s shoulder that, even though those satyrs had plated the wretched young man with coats of mail and suchlike, when it was turned it struck Pantasilea across the nose and mouth. The two of them rolled to the ground, and then Bachiacca, with his breeches half down, gave a scream and ran for his life. I attacked the others furiously with my sword, and at the same time there was such a great commotion in the inn that those brave fellows thought they were being set on by an army of a hundred strong. They had all boldly drawn their swords, but two of the horses panicked and threw them into confusion. So when two of their best riders were thrown the rest of them took to flight.

  When I saw how well things were going I hurriedly retired from the engagement – at great speed, but with honour – not wanting to tempt fortune more than necessary. There was such a muddle that some of the soldiers and officers wounded themselves with their own swords, and Benvegnato – the Papal chamberlain that I mentioned – was kicked and trampled on by his mule. One of his attendants who had his sword drawn fell with him, giving him a nasty wound in the hand. This misfortune made him curse more than all the others, and he roared in typical Perugian fashion: ‘By God, this Benvegnato will give Benvenuto something to think about.’

  Then he ordered one of his captains – more daring than the others, perhaps, but so young that he lacked their good sense – to get hold of me. This captain came looking for me at the place I had retired to. I was in the house of a Neapolitan nobleman who had appreciated some of my work, admired my military character and bearing, and so had taken a great liking to me. He himself was very fond of soldiering. Seeing how welcome I was there, and feeling quite at home, I gave that captain the sort of reply that must have made him feel sorry he ever came to find me.

  A few days later, when their wounds were healing up – that is, Luigi’s, and his whore’s, and the others’ – Benvegnato felt a little calmer. He came along to the nobleman I was staying with to try to persuade me to make it up with young Luigi, and he added that those intrepid soldiers had nothing against me themselves, and only wanted to make my acquaintance. The nobleman let them know that he would bring me wherever they wanted, and that he would be only too glad to persuade me to make peace. But he said that there must be no recriminations on either side, as that would be too degrading. We would just have to go through the ceremony of drinking together and embracing; he would do all the talking and would be only too pleased to put himself at their service.

  That was what happened. One Thursday evening this nobleman took me along to Benvegnato’s house. All the soldiers who had been routed were there, sitting down at table. And, a thing Benvegnato had not expected, my friend brought along with him more than thirty strapping fellows, all well armed. We entered the hall with him leading the way and me after, and he said:

  ‘God be with you, gentlemen! Benvenuto, whom I love like a brother, and I myself have come along here, ready to do all you want.’

  Benvegnato, confronted with such a troop of men, answered: ‘All we want is to make peace.’

  Then he promised that I would not be molested by the authorities, and we made peace. Immediately afterwards I returned to my workshop, where not an hour went past without that Neapolitan nobleman either coming to see me himself or sending for me.

  Meanwhile Luigi Pulci had recovered and began riding about every day on that black horse of his, the one that was so beautifully trained. One day when it happened to be raining and he was putting his horse through its paces just outside Pantasilea’s door, he slipped and fell with the horse on top of him, breaking his right leg at the thigh. A few days later he died in Pantasilea’s house. That was how he fulfilled the vow he had made so intensely to God. So we can see how God reckons up good and evil, and gives every man what he deserves.

  The whole world was now at war.58 Pope Clement had sent to Giovanni de’ Medici for some troops, and when these arrived in Rome they behaved so brutally that it was dangerous to remain in a public shop. Because of this I retired to a pleasant little house behind the Banchi, where I carried on working for all the friends I had made. At this time I was not doing anything of great importance, so there is no call for me to talk about my work. I was finding great relaxation in music and other pleasures of the same kind.

  Then, on the advice of Jacopo Salviati,59 Pope Clement dismissed the five companies sent to him by Giovanni, who himself had already been killed in Lombardy. So the Constable of Bourbon, knowing that there were no soldiers in Rome, began marching his army as rapidly as he could towards the city; and in the face of this threat the whole of Rome flew to arms. I happened to be a great friend of Alessandro, the son of Piero del Bene, and, in fact, when the Colonnesi had attacked Rome he had asked me to guard his palace. As a result, on this far more momentous occasion, he begged me to raise a troop of fifty men, put myself at their head – as I had done before – and guard his palace.

  So I collected together fifty courageous young fellows and we took up our quarters in his house, where we were well treated and generously paid.

  By this time the Bourbon’s army had arrived before the walls of Rome. Alessandro del Bene begged me to go along with him and find out what was happening, and I did as he wanted, taking with me one of my closest comrades. On the way we were joined by a young man called Cecchino della Casa. When we arrived at the walls of the Campo Santo we caught sight of the Bourbon’s impressive army, which was already exerting all its strength to force a way into the city. At the part of the wall we came to, many young men had already been killed by the attackers, the fighting was desperately bitter, and the place was covered by the thickest fog imaginable. I turned to Alessandro and said:

  ‘Let’s get back home as quickly as we can – there’s nothing we can do here. The enemy are scaling the walls and our men are running for their lives.’

  Alessandro panicked and started crying: ‘I wish to God we’d never come here!’

  And then, mad with fright, he started to run away. But I checked him and shouted: ‘Now you’ve brought me here, we must show that we’re men.’

  At the same time, I pointed my arquebus towards the thickest and most closely packed part of the enemy, taking direct aim at someone I could see standing out from the rest. The fog prevented my seeing whether he was mounted or on foot. I turned round hurriedly to Alessandro and Cecchino and told them to fire their guns, showing them how to do it so that they themselves could not be hit by the fire of the besiegers.

  We all fired, twice in succession, and I looked cautiously over the wall. The enemy had been thrown into the most extraordinary confusion, because one of our shots had killed the Constable of Bourbon. From what I learned later he must have been the man I saw standing out from the others.

  Then we retired, going through the Campo Santo, making our way through St Peter’s, and then coming out behind by the church of Sant’ Angelo. We were hard put to it to get to the gate of the castle, as Rienzo da Ceri and Orazio Baglioni60 were busy wounding or killing everyone who fled from the fight at the walls. By the time we arrived at the gate some of the enemy had broken into Rome and were at our heels. However, as the castellan wanted to drop the portcullis he cleared a way, and the four of us were able to push on inside.

  As soon as I arrived Captain Pallone de’ Medici grabbed hold of me because I was on the staff of the castle, and much against my will forced me to leave Alessandro. As I made my way up to the tower, Pope Clement made his way along the corridors into the castle. He had refused to leave the palace of St Peter before, because he could not believe that the enemy might enter the city.

  So there I was in the castle. I went up to some guns that were in the charge of a bombardier called Giuliano the Florentine. He was staring out over the battlements to where his poor house was being sacked and his wife and children outraged. He dared not fire in case he harmed his own family, and flinging his fuse on the ground he started tearing at his face and sobbing bitterly. Other bombardiers were do
ing the same.

  When I saw this I seized one of the fuses, got help from some of the men who were not in such a sorry state, and lined up some heavy pieces of artillery and falconets, firing them where I saw the need. In this way I slaughtered a great number of the enemy. If I had not done so the troops who had broken into Rome that morning would have made straight for the castle and could easily have entered, as the artillery was not in action. I continued firing, with an accompaniment of blessings and cheers from a number of cardinals and noblemen. Inspired by this, I forced myself to try and do the impossible. Anyhow, all I need say is that it was through me that the castle was saved that morning and that those other bombardiers came back to their duty. I carried on with the work all day, and then evening approached.

  Then, while the army was marching into Rome by the Trastevere, Pope Clement put a great Roman nobleman called Antonio Santa Croce in charge of all the bombardiers, and the first thing he did was to come up and show me the most extraordinary kindness. He stationed me with five splendid pieces of artillery at the highest point of the castle, which is called the Angel.61 This platform runs right round the castle and overlooks Prati and the rest of Rome. He put a number of men under my command to help me with the guns, paid me in advance, had me doled out some bread and wine, and then begged me to carry on as I had begun. I was only too eager to do so, being perhaps more attracted to soldiering than to my real profession, and as a result I made a better job of it than I did of being a goldsmith.

  Night came on, and the enemy were in Rome. Those of us in the castle, especially I myself with my constant delight in seeing unfamiliar things, stayed where we were, contemplating the conflagration and the unbelievable spectacle before our eyes. It was such that it could only be seen or imagined by those in the castle. But I shall not begin describing it; I shall just carry on with the story of my own life and the events that really belong to it.

  The whole month that we were besieged in the castle I was actively engaged on the guns. This led to all sorts of happenings, all of which are worth the telling; but as I must not write too much and do not want to be too detailed about matters that do not concern my own profession, I shall leave most of them out and only describe the one I must – the few that are most remarkable.

  This is the first. One day Messer Antonio Santa Croce had me come down from the Angel so that I could fire on some houses near the castle that a number of the enemy had entered. While I was firing a cannon shot hurtled towards me. But as it struck a corner of the battlement, carrying away a great section of it, I escaped harm. The masonry crashed down and hit me in the chest. With the breath knocked out of me, stretched out on the ground as if I were dead, I could hear all that the people standing round were saying. In his grief, Antonio Santa Croce was crying: ‘Oh, now we’ve lost the greatest support we had.’

  All this tumult drew in our direction a companion of mine, called Gianfrancesco the Fifer. Despite his name he was much more skilled in medicine than in music. He saw what had happened, and ran off at once crying for a flask of the best Greek wine. Then he heated a tile till it was red-hot, put a good handful of wormwood on it, and started sprinkling the wine on top. When the herbs were well soaked, he at once pressed them on my chest, where the bruise could be clearly seen. The wormwood was so efficacious that it immediately brought me back to life. I tried to say something but found it impossible, as some stupid young soldiers had stuffed my mouth with earth in the belief that they were giving me communion: as far as my life was concerned they had very nearly excommunicated me. I had a job to recover and the earth did me more harm than the blow I received. Having escaped that accident I went back to the fury of the guns, applying myself with unimaginable energy and zeal.

  Pope Clement had sent for help from the Duke of Urbino62 who was with the Venetian army, sending word by his envoy that as long as the castle continued to fire three beacons on its summit every night, and three times let off a triple cannonade, as long as this signal was given the castle remained untaken. It was part of my duty to light the beacons and fire the guns. During the day I carried on directing our gunfire where it could do most harm. When he saw how properly I was doing my work, I rose even higher in the Pope’s estimation. But no help ever arrived from the Duke; and I shall not go into the reason, as that is not my affair.

  While I was engaged on this devilish business some of the cardinals who were in the castle used to come along to watch me, especially the Cardinals Ravenna and de’ Gaddi. 63 I kept telling these two not to come too near me, as their nasty red birettas could be seen a long way off and in consequence we were in great danger from neighbouring buildings like the Torre de’ Bini. At long last I had them kept in, and as a result I made bitter enemies of them.

  As well as this, Signor Orazio Baglioni, who was very fond of me, used to pay me frequent visits. On one occasion he happened to be chatting with me when he noticed that there was some disturbance at an inn outside the castle gate, at a place called Baccanello. The inn-sign was a red sun, painted between two of the windows. These windows were closed, and Orazio came to the conclusion that there must be a crowd of soldiers making merry just behind them, and just behind the painted sign.

  So he said to me, ‘Benvenuto, if you went out of your way to fire your small cannon within an arm’s length of that sun, I think it would be well worth while. There’s a great deal of noise coming from that place, so there must be some very important people there.’

  I answered that I was capable of hitting the target right in the middle, but was anxious about a barrel of stones, set near the mouth of the cannon, being hurtled to the ground because of the force of the gun’s discharge.

  ‘Don’t waste time, Benvenuto,’ he replied. ‘In the first place the blast couldn’t make it fall from where it is now. And even if it did, and the Pope himself were underneath, there’d be less harm done than you think. So, fire away, fire away.’

  Without another thought I fired and hit the sun in the middle, just as I had promised. The barrel tumbled down, as I said it would, falling right between Cardinal Farnese 64 and Jacopo Salviati, and it might well have crushed the two of them, if it had not been for the fact that Cardinal Farnese had just reproached Jacopo with having caused the sack of Rome. Because of this they started swopping insults and as they drew apart to air their opinions the barrel missed them. Hearing such a noise in the courtyard below, that good man, Signor Orazio, came rushing down; I looked down to where the barrel had fallen and heard them say: ‘That gunner ought to be killed.’

  At this I trained two light cannon on the stairway, determined that whoever came up first would get the full force of one of them. Some of Cardinal Farnese’s servants must have been ordered to go up and attack me. So I stood ready with a lighted fuse in my hand, and when I recognized some of them I shouted out:

  ‘You useless fools – if you don’t clear off, if one of you dares climb up these stairs, I have two falconets ready and I’ll blow you to smithereens. Go and tell the Cardinal that I was carrying out the orders of my superiors. What we’ve done and what we are doing is in defence of these priests, not an attack on them.’

  They made off and then Orazio Baglioni came running up, and I told him, knowing full well who he was, to stand back before he was slaughtered. He drew back a little, rather frightened, and then he said: ‘Benvenuto, I’m your friend.’

  ‘All right, sir,’ I answered, ‘come up by all means, but come by yourself.’

  He was a very proud man, and he stood still a little while; then he said angrily:

  ‘I’ve a good mind to come no farther, and to do exactly the opposite of what I was going to do for you.’

  My reply to this was that just as it was my duty to defend others so I could defend myself as well. At this he answered that he would come up by himself, and when he reached the top I saw the changed expression on his face and stood there waiting, with my hand on my sword, staring at him grimly. When he looked at me he began to laugh, his face returned
to normal, and he remarked very pleasantly:

  ‘My dear Benvenuto, I have the greatest affection for you – and when God wills I’ll prove it to you. I wish to God you had killed those two rogues. One of them is the cause of all the trouble, and more than likely the other will prove even worse.’

  Then he asked me, if I was questioned, not to say that he had been near me when I fired the gun, and otherwise, he said, I was not to worry.

  The repercussions from this business were tremendous and we did not hear the end of it for a very long time. But I do not want to dwell on it any longer, except to say that I very nearly revenged my father on Jacopo Salviati, who, as my father used to complain, had treated him treacherously time and time again. As it was, inadvertently I put the fear of the devil into him. I shall keep quiet about Farnese, as in due course it will be pretty clear that it would have been all the better if I had killed him.

  I carried on with my work at the guns, and not a day passed without my achieving some outstanding success. As a result my stock with the Pope went up and up. Hardly a day ended without my having killed some of the besiegers.

  One day the Pope happened to be walking along round the keep when he noticed in Prati a Spanish officer who had once been in his service and whom he recognized from certain characteristics that he had. As he was staring down at him he started to talk about the man. Meanwhile, knowing nothing about all this, I merely looked down from the top of the Angel and noticed that there was someone directing the digging of trenches. He had a lance in his hand and was dressed in a rose-coloured uniform. I began to wonder how I could get at him, took one of the falconets that was near me – the falconet is bigger and longer than the swivel gun and very like a demi-culverin – cleared it, and then loaded with a hefty charge of fine powder, mixed with coarse. I aimed carefully at the man who was dressed in red, elevating the gun way up in the air, as he was too far away for me to be sure of accuracy with a gun of that kind. Then I fired and hit him exactly in the middle.