The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini

by Benvenuto Cellini

  He kept on trying to persuade me, all the same; and he said that a knowledge of Latin was not worth having, and that if he wanted he could have found plenty of people who knew Latin, but that he had never met anyone as resolute as I was, and that I would be wise to listen to his advice. We went on talking in this strain till we reached our homes; and all that night every one of us dreamed about devils.

  We used to meet every day after that, and the necromancer kept insisting that I should join him in the undertaking he had mentioned. So in the end I asked him how long it would take and where we would have to go. He replied that it would all be over in less than a month, and that the most suitable place was in the mountains of Norcia.110 In fact, he added, one of his teachers had consecrated a book at a place quite near, called the Badia di Farfa,111 but he had run into some difficulties that we would avoid in the mountains. Besides this, he went on, the peasants around Norcia were trustworthy people with some experience of the black art, so if there were any need they would be a wonderful help.

  This necromancer priest was certainly tremendously persuasive, and I became more than ready to join him in his undertaking, but I told him that first I wanted to finish the medals I was making for the Pope. I had taken the priest, and no one else, into my confidence about the medals, and I begged him to keep the secret to himself. At the same time I kept on asking him if he believed that, at the time promised, I would find myself with my Sicilian girl, Angelica; and seeing that the time was drawing near I was astonished I had heard no news of her. He replied that I would certainly find myself where she was, because the demons never failed to keep a promise like the one they had made to me; but that I should keep my eyes open and be on guard against a possible accident. He added that I should force myself to put up with something that I would find hardly bearable, and that I would run a very great risk. It would be to my advantage, he said, if I went with him to consecrate the book, because that way the great danger would be avoided and it would bring both of us wonderful good fortune.

  By now I was beginning to be more eager than he was himself. But I told him that a certain Giovanni da Castel Bolognese,112 who was an expert at making medals of the sort that I went in for, in steel, had arrived in Rome, and that my only ambition was to compete with that artist and let my achievements take the world by storm. By showing my skill in this way and not by my sword, I added, I would slaughter all my enemies. But he kept on urging me.

  ‘Please, Benvenuto, please,’ he said, ‘come with me, and escape the great danger I see threatening you.’

  But, come what might, I was determined to finish my medal first. The end of the month was already drawing near, but I was so passionately in love with my medal that I forgot Angelica and everything of that sort, and was completely absorbed by my work.

  One day, towards vespers, I had for some reason or other to make a journey from my house to the shop, outside my usual time. I had my shop in the Banchi, and my house was behind the Banchi. I only occasionally went along to the shop, as I left all the business in the hands of my partner, Felice. Anyhow, after I had been there a little while I remembered that I had to go and have a few words with Alessandro del Bene. So I left at once, and then when I arrived in the Banchi I ran across a very great friend of mine called Ser Benedetto.

  Benedetto was now a notary, but he had been born in Florence, the son of a blind Sienese beggar. He had lived for any number of years in Naples; and then he had moved to Rome where he transacted business matters for some Sienese merchants of the Chigi family. As it happened my partner had been at him a hundred and one times for some money that was owing for some rings Felice had entrusted to him; that very day, in fact, he had met him in the Banchi and demanded the money in his usual brusque manner while Benedetto was in the company of his employers. As a result, when they saw what was going on, they gave him a severe dressing-down and said that as they did not want any more wrangling they would make use of someone else’s services.

  He tried to defend himself as best he could, saying that he had paid the goldsmith and that it was too much to expect him to restrain the violence of madmen. The Sienese merchants were cut to the quick by his use of that word, and they immediately sent him packing. After he had left them he shot off towards my shop, probably with the idea of having his revenge on Felice. It so happened, then, that we ran into each other just in the middle of the Banchi. I knew nothing of what had been going on, so I greeted him affectionately, in my usual way. The only answer I received was an outburst of cursing. At this all the necromancer’s warnings came back to me, so I restrained myself as best I could from doing what his words were driving me to, and I said:

  ‘My dear Benedetto, you don’t want to lose your temper with me. I’ve never done you any harm, and I know nothing about these affairs of yours. As for your business with Felice, go and have it out with him; he knows the right sort of answer to give you. But as I know nothing about all this don’t do me wrong by insulting me in such a way, especially as you know that I’m not the kind of man to put up with abuse.’

  At this he said that I knew all about it, and that he was the sort of man who would give me more to put up with than that, and that Felice and I were two great scoundrels.

  By this time a crowd had gathered round to watch the contest. I was goaded on by his ugly insults, stooped down quickly to pick up a lump of mud (it had been raining) and in a flash let him have it straight in the face. He ducked, and as a result it landed on the top of his head. Hidden in the mud there was a chunk of hard rock with sharp edges; one of the corners struck him on the head and he fell down in a dead faint. Seeing how much he was bleeding, all the bystanders jumped to the conclusion that he was dead.

  While he was still lying on the ground and some of them were preparing to carry him off, that jeweller Pompeo, whom I mentioned before, happened to pass by. The Pope had sent for him about some jewellery business. Pompeo saw what a bad way Benedetto was in and asked who had struck him. He was told: ‘Benvenuto did – but the fool asked for it.’

  As soon as Pompeo arrived in front of the Pope, he blurted out: ‘Holy Father, Benvenuto has just this very moment murdered Tobbia – I saw it with my own eyes.’

  Livid with rage, the Pope ordered the Governor, who happened to be in the room, to seize me and hang me on the spot where the murder was committed. He told him to leave no stone unturned, and not to come back till he had hanged me. Meanwhile, when I saw I had knocked the poor wretch down, I immediately thought of the predicament I was in, considering the power of my enemies and what such a thing could lead to. I ran off and took refuge with Giovanni Gaddi, a clerk of the Camera, with the idea of making preparations as quickly as I could to clear out of Rome.

  Giovanni, however, advised me not to be in such a furious hurry to leave, and he added that perhaps things were not as bad as they looked. Then he sent for Annibal Caro, who lived with him, and told him to go and see how matters stood. While he was making these plans, a Roman gentleman appeared on the scene. He was a member of Cardinal de’ Medici’s household,113 and it was the Cardinal who sent him along. He called Giovanni and me aside and then told us that the Cardinal had repeated to him what the Pope had said, that there was no way he could help me, and that I must do all I could to escape this first storm of anger. He added that I should not trust to safety in any house in Rome. As soon as he had left, Giovanni stared me in the face, and then looked as if he was going to burst into tears.

  ‘Oh, what a miserable wretch I am!’ he said. ‘There’s no way I can help you at all.’

  ‘With God’s support, I shall help myself,’ I answered. ‘All I ask you for is the loan of one of your horses.’

  There was a black Arab horse, the finest, most handsome animal in Rome, already saddled. I mounted it and slung a loaded flint arquebus across the saddle-bow, ready to defend myself. When I reached the Ponte Sisto I found the whole police guard waiting there, on horseback and on foot. However, I made a virtue of necessity, boldly spurred on
my horse to a trot and, thanks to God, who averted their eyes, I passed safely through them. Then, as fast as I could, I rode off to a village called Palombara, belonging to Giovanbatista Savello, and there I sent the horse back to Giovanni, though without letting him learn where I was.

  Signor Giovanbatista let me enjoy his hospitality for two days, and then advised me to leave Palombara and to make for Naples, till the storm had blown over. He gave me an escort and set me on the road. On the way, I ran into a sculptor friend of mine who was journeying to San Germano to finish the tomb of Piero de’ Medici at Monte Cassino. He was called Solosmeo,114 and he gave me the news that on that same evening Pope Clement had sent one of his chamberlains to find out what condition Tobbia was in. He found Tobbia working, nothing had happened to him, and he did not even know anything about what had occurred. When this was reported to the Pope he turned to Pompeo and said:

  ‘You’re a miserable scoundrel, but let me warn you that you’ve stirred up a serpent who will bite you as you deserve.’

  Then he turned to Cardinal de’ Medici and told him to take good care of me, as he would not like to lose me for the world. And meanwhile Solosmeo and I, singing as we went, were on the road to Monte Cassino; and then we were going to Naples.

  After Solosmeo had seen to his business at Monte Cassino, we went together towards Naples. We were about half a mile from the town when we were met by an innkeeper who invited us to his inn. He told us that he had lived in Florence for many years, with Carlo Ginori,115 and that as we were Florentines if we went to his inn we would be treated very hospitably. We repeated several times that we had no wish to go with him but – riding one moment in front and the next behind – he said over and over again that he would like us to visit his inn.

  This began to annoy me, so I asked him if he could give me any information about a certain Sicilian woman, named Beatrice, and her beautiful daughter, Angelica, who were both courtesans. Thinking that I was mocking him, the innkeeper shouted: ‘God damn all courtesans – and all their friends!’

  Then he dug in his spurs and rode off as if he was finished with us. I imagined I had rid myself of that nasty brute very neatly, but I was out of luck because the memory of my great love for Angelica flooded back, and while I was talking about this to Solosmeo and sighing like a lover, we saw the innkeeper galloping back to us at a furious pace.

  When he reached us he cried out: ‘Two or three days ago a woman and a young girl came to stay at a house near my inn, and they had the names you mentioned, but I don’t know whether they are Sicilians or not.’

  My reply to this was that the name Angelica meant so much to me that I was now determined to visit him. So we rode on with him into Naples and dismounted at his inn. I unpacked my things quickly – though it seemed to take an eternity – and then I went into the house next door, where I found my Angelica. She gave me an unimaginably passionate welcome. I stayed with her from about two hours before nightfall till the next morning, tasting greater pleasures than I had ever known before. And while I was enjoying myself so delightfully I remembered that the month expired that very day, as the demons in the necromancer’s circle had promised me. So anyone who meddles with spirits should bear in mind what tremendous risks I ran.

  I happened to find a diamond ring in my purse, and I showed it round the goldsmiths in Naples. Although I was a young man, even in Naples my reputation was so high that I was given a wonderful welcome. Among the others was a very highly-respected jeweller called Domenico Fontana. During the three days I stayed in Naples this excellent fellow abandoned his workshop and never moved from my side. He showed me a good number of fine antiquities, both in and outside Naples, and what was more he took me along to pay my respects to the Viceroy,116 who had let him know that he very much wanted to meet me.

  When I was shown into his Excellency’s presence he greeted me very courteously, and as he did so his eye fell on the diamond that I mentioned. He made me show it to him, and then he begged me if I had to dispose of it not to forget him. At this I took the diamond, and then I handed it back to him, saying that the jewel, like myself, was at his Excellency’s service. In reply he said that he was very pleased with the diamond, but that he would be even more delighted if I were to stay with him, and that he would treat me so generously that I would be more than satisfied. We carried on our conversation very politely; but then we came to discuss what the diamond was worth, and his Excellency told me to state, without hesitating, what price I put on it. I said that it was worth exactly two hundred crowns.

  His comment on this was that he thought I had hit the mark, but that since I had set the stone myself, and he knew I was the finest craftsman in the world, it would not be displayed to such advantage if someone else set it. I replied that in fact the jewel had not been set by me, that the job had been done badly, and that its wonderful appearance was the result of the diamond’s own brilliance. If I were to re-set it, I added, I would improve it beyond measure. I put my nail to the edges of the diamond’s facets and prised it out of the ring; then I gave it a quick polish and handed it to the Viceroy. He was astonished and delighted, and wrote me out an order for the two hundred crowns I had asked.

  When I returned to my lodgings I found waiting for me some letters from Cardinal de’ Medici. He said that I should go back to Rome without delay, and that instantly I arrived I was to dismount at his Eminence’s palace. I read the letter out to Angelica, and she started crying and pleaded with me lovingly either to stay in Naples or else to take her with me. I replied that if she meant to come with me I would give her the two hundred ducats I had received from the Viceroy, and she could look after them for me. Then her mother, seeing us with our heads close together, came up and said:

  ‘Benvenuto, if you intend to lead my Angelica off to Rome, leave me fifteen ducats to pay for having the baby, and then I shall come as well.’

  I told the old schemer that I would be only too glad to let her have thirty, if she would let me have my Angelica. So we struck a bargain. Then Angelica begged me to buy her a black velvet dress, as the material was cheap in Naples. I agreed to everything, sent for the velvet, and settled the account. Then the old woman, who thought I was green as well as infatuated, wanted an expensive dress made for herself, a number of things for her daughter, and much more money than I had offered her.

  At all this, I turned to her with a smile and said: ‘Beatrice, my dear, isn’t what I offered enough?’

  She said, no.

  ‘Well then,’ I went on, ‘what is not enough for you is enough for me.’

  Then I kissed Angelica, and we parted company – she in tears, and I with a laugh – and I set out for Rome straight away.

  I left Naples at night, with the money on my person, in case I fell victim to the usual Neapolitan custom and was attacked and murdered. In fact when I reached Selciata I had to put up a skilful and vigorous defence against a band of horsemen who made a murderous onslaught on me.

  A few days later, after I had left Solosmeo to see to his business at Monte Cassino, I arrived in the morning at the inn in Anagni and decided to have some food there. I had almost reached it when I shot and killed a few birds with my arquebus and tore my right hand on an iron splinter in the lock of the gun. It was not a very serious wound, but it looked very ugly because my hand was bleeding profusely. I entered the inn, stabled my horse, and went upstairs to a gallery where I found a large gathering of Neapolitan gentlemen who were just about to sit down at table. There was a charming young lady with them – one of the most beautiful I have ever seen.

  As I walked up the stairs my fine young servant came after me with a great pole-axe in his hand. As a result, what with the district being known as a den of murderers, the sight of two armed men and all that blood struck such terror into those poor fellows that they rose from the table, and, trembling with fear, called on God to help them. I immediately started laughing and called out that God had already helped them, because I was the sort of man who would defen
d them against any attacker. Then I asked them for some help in bandaging my hand, and that beautiful young lady took out her handkerchief, which was richly embroidered with gold, to bind the wound. I objected to this but she impetuously tore it in half, and very gently bandaged my wound with her own hand.

  So they were somewhat reassured, and we had a very pleasant meal. After we had finished we mounted our horses and all rode off together. But the gentlemen were still rather suspicious, and so, very neatly, they got me talking to the lady while they rode along a little way in the rear. So I trotted along at her side on my fine little horse, and at the same time I made a sign to my servant to keep his distance. We had a very agreeable talk together, and it wasn’t about things you can buy in a shop. So my journey back to Rome turned out to be one of the pleasantest I have ever had.

  Once there, I dismounted at Cardinal de’ Medici’s palace, and when I found his Eminence I had a little chat with him and thanked him for having me brought back. Then I begged him to protect me against being imprisoned and if possible against being fined. He was overjoyed to see me, told me not to worry about anything, and then, turning to one of his attendants, who was a Sienese gentleman called Pierantonio Pecci,117 said that he was to inform the chief constable from him that he must not dare lay hands on me. Next he asked him how the man I had hurled the stone at was getting on. Pierantonio said that he was very ill and would get even worse, as he knew that I was back in Rome and had sworn that he would die, just to get even with me. The Cardinal roared with laughter at this and said:

  ‘He couldn’t find a better way of making us quite sure that he was born in Siena.’

  Then he turned to me and added: ‘For the sake of both of us, be patient for four or five days, and don’t show yourself in the Banchi. After that go wherever you like, and let fools die as they please.’