When we were half-way down the lake we found a stretch of flat land where we could rest; and I saw that the four Germans had disembarked. When we wanted to do the same the boatman stubbornly refused; so I said to my young fellows:
‘Now’s the time to show them what sort of men we are. Draw your swords, and we’ll compel them to put us ashore.’
They resisted strongly, but in the end with a great deal of effort we got our own way. Eventually we were landed, and then we had to climb two miles up the mountain-side, which was harder than climbing a ladder. I was wearing a complete suit of mail, with big boots, and a gun in my hand; and God was sending us all the rain He had. Those German devils, holding the bridles of their little horses, were making stupendous progress, while our horses were completely useless for the job and we were cracking up under the strain of forcing them up that difficult climb. We had made a little progress when Ascanio’s splendid Hungarian horse (Ascanio was just in front of the courier, Busbacca, and had given him his lance to carry for him) because of the treacherous going stumbled and staggered back. It was completely helpless, and then it impaled itself on the point of the lance held by that villain of a courier, who hadn’t the presence of mind to get it out of the way.
It pierced the horse right through the neck. Then my other workman went to give a hand, when his horse, too, stumbled back towards the lake and was just saved by a very small bush. This horse, a black one, was carrying a pair of saddle-bags with all my money and other valuables inside it: I told the lad to save his own life and let the horse go to hell. From where we were it was a sheer fall of about a mile, straight into the lake. Directly below us was the place where the boatmen had stationed themselves, so if the horse had fallen it would have crashed straight on to them. I was in front, and we waited to see the horse hurtle down, certain in our minds that it was doomed.
Meanwhile I said to my young men: ‘Don’t worry about anything, let’s save ourselves and thank God for it. I’m only upset about that poor fellow Busbacca having tied his goblet and those jewels of his, worth several thousand ducats, on to the horse’s saddle-bow, reckoning it was the safest place. I’ve only a few hundred crowns there myself, and with God’s help I’m not worried in the slightest.’
Then Busbacca cried: ‘I’m not worried about my belongings, but I’m very upset about yours.’
‘Why trouble yourself about my few belongings,’ I said, ‘and not about your own valuable things?’
‘By God,’ answered Busbacca, ‘I shall have to tell you: in the sort of predicament we’re in one has got to tell the truth. You’ve lost some crowns – and they’re real crowns: I know that. But you know that goblet case that I said was filled with so many jewels, and that I lied about so much? Well, it’s full of caviare.’
At this all I could do was laugh; my young friends burst out laughing as well; and Busbacca wept. And then, after we had given it up for lost, the horse recovered its footing. So laughing away we pulled ourselves together and continued up the mountain. The four Germans had reached the top of that precipitous mountain before us, and then they sent down some men to give us a helping hand. At long last we reached that wild resting-place; and there, wringing wet, exhausted, and famished, we were given a wonderful welcome and were able to dry ourselves, have a rest, and satisfy our hunger. The wounded horse was cured by the use of certain herbs that we were told about. The hedges were full of this species of herb, and we were informed that if we kept the wound stuffed with it the horse would recover, and moreover serve us as well as if it had never been injured: and we followed these instructions. After we had thanked those gentlemen, feeling fully restored we set out again on the journey, thanking God for having saved us from such tremendous danger.
The next place we arrived at was beyond Wesen, and we spent the night there. All night long we could hear a watchman singing out the hours, in a very pleasant fashion. All the houses in the town were built of pine-wood, and so the watchman’s only job was to warn against fire. Every time he sang, Busbacca, who had been badly shaken up by the day’s events, groaned in his sleep and cried: ‘Help! God! I’m drowning…’ This was partly the result of his having been so terrified the day before; but besides this he had been drunk that evening because he had tried to outdrink all the Germans he could find. One minute he would scream: ‘I’m burning!’ and the next, ‘I’m drowning!’ And there were times when he dreamt that he was being tormented in hell, with the caviare hanging round his neck.
That night was so enjoyable that all our troubles were turned to laughter. Next morning we got up to find that the weather was perfect; and we went to eat at a charming little place called Lachen.
We were splendidly entertained there, and then afterwards we hired some guides who were on their way back to a town called Zürich. Our guide led the way along a causeway by the lake. There was no other road, and even the causeway was covered with water. As a result that idiot of a guide stumbled, and he and his horse went under water. I was immediately behind him: I pulled up my horse and then waited to see the fool clamber out. As if nothing had happened he started singing again and beckoned me on.
At this I plunged off to the right, breaking through some hedges and showing the way to Busbacca and my young men. The guide shouted after us, in German, that if anyone saw me I’d be shot. But we rode forward and escaped that danger as well. Then we arrived at Zürich, a wonderful city, sparkling like a little jewel. We rested a whole day and were off again early next morning to another beautiful city called Solothurn. From there we went to Lausanne, from Lausanne to Geneva, and from Geneva to Lyons, laughing and singing all the way.
I stayed at Lyons four days, had a good time with some friends of mine, and was reimbursed what I had paid out for Busbacca. After the four days were up I took the road for Paris. It was an enjoyable journey, save for an incident near La Palice, when a band of robbers, the Adventurers, tried to murder us. But we fought them off boldly, and pushed on to Paris. We arrived there safely, singing and laughing all the way and not meeting with the slightest accident.
In Paris I rested for a time, and then I set out to find the painter, Rosso, who was in the King’s service. I regarded this fellow, Rosso, as the best friend that I could have in the world, since when he was in Rome I had shown him every imaginable mark of kindness. I can sum up the generous way I treated him in a few words, so, to show up his brazen-faced ingratitude, I shall give an account of what happened.
Well then, in Rome his wicked tongue got him into trouble when he started belittling the work of Raphael of Urbino. Raphael’s pupils were all set to kill him, and it was I who saved him from his deserts and guarded him night and day, at great inconvenience to myself. And then again, he slandered that excellent architect, Antonio da San Gallo,181 and as a result Antonio had a commission that he had been given by Agnolo da Cesi taken away from him. Then Antonio began to persecute him so much that he brought him near to starvation. So I lent him a good few dozen crowns to live on.
He still owed me this money: and knowing that he was in the King’s service I went along, as I said, to call on him. It was not so much that I expected him to pay me back my money, as that I was hoping he would use his influence to help me get into the King’s service myself. When he saw me he was quite disconcerted. The first thing he said was:
‘Benvenuto, you’ve made your long journey at too great a cost, especially at this time when everyone is concentrating on war, rather than on our trifling efforts.’
In reply to this I said that I had brought enough money to take me back to Rome in the same way as I had come to Paris, that this was not the return I expected for the way I had put myself out for him, and that I was beginning to believe what Antonio da San Gallo had said about him. Realizing what a villain he appeared, he wanted to laugh the whole thing off; but then I showed him a letter of exchange for five hundred crowns on Ricciardo del Bene. The wretch was thoroughly ashamed of himself and was all for forcing me to stay; but I laughed in his face
and went off with a painter who had been standing there.
This man, who was called Sguazzella,182 was also a Florentine. I went to lodge in his house, with three horses and three servants, at so much a week. He looked after me very well, and I paid him even better. Later on I tried to get an interview with the King, and I was introduced to him by his treasurer, a certain Giuliano Buonaccorsi.183 I had to wait a long time for this audience, and I was ignorant of the fact that Rosso was doing his best to prevent it. When Giuliano learnt about this, he immediately took me to Fontainebleau,184 straight into the King’s presence; and I was given a very gracious audience with him, lasting a whole hour. As the King was preparing to set out for Lyons he told Giuliano to take me along with him, and he added that on the journey we would discuss some works of art that his Majesty was thinking of commissioning.
So I went along, following in the train of the court, and on the road I paid great attention to the Cardinal of Ferrara,185 who had not yet received his Cardinal’s hat. I used to have a long talk with his Eminence every evening, and he told me that I ought to remain at his abbey in Lyons and enjoy myself there till the King came back from the war. He said that the King was going on to Grenoble, but that if I stayed at his abbey I would have everything I wanted.
When we reached Lyons I fell ill, and my young Ascanio was attacked by the quartan fever: as a result I found myself growing sick of the French and of their court, and it seemed an eternity before I could be back in Rome. When the Cardinal saw I was anxious to return to Rome he paid me to make him a silver basin and jug once I was there. So we rode back towards Rome, on some splendid horses, by way of the Simplon, and for part of the journey accompanied by a few Frenchmen. Ascanio was suffering from his quartan fever, and I was ill with a persistent feverishness that seemed as if it would never leave me. My stomach was so queasy that for four months I believe I did not succeed in eating one loaf of bread a week. I was longing to return to Italy; wanting to die there, and not in France.
After we had passed the Simplon mountains we came to a river near a place called Indevedro. It was a very wide river, very deep, and over it there was a long, narrow bridge, without rails. There had been a thick white frost that morning; and after I had reached the bridge in front of the others, seeing how dangerous it was I ordered my young men and servants to dismount and lead their horses by hand. I crossed over safely and on the way fell into conversation with one of the two Frenchmen, who was a nobleman. The other, who was a notary, stayed some distance behind us and started making fun of the nobleman and myself because we had gone to the trouble of walking when there was nothing to fear.
At this I turned round, and seeing him half-way across I begged him to go carefully, as he was on a very dangerous part of the bridge. His French nature asserted itself and he shouted out in his French jargon that I was a coward and that there wasn’t the slightest risk. Just as he was saying this he went to spur his horse on a little, and as a result the horse slipped over the edge, and with its legs pointing up towards the sky fell beside a huge rock. Since God is often merciful to fools, the beast – and the beastly fool who was riding it – were hurtled into deep water, and they both went under. As soon as I saw this, I began running as fast as I could, managed with some difficulty to leap up on to the rock, and leaning forward caught hold of a fold of the coat he was wearing: I pulled him up by it, for he was still under water. He had swallowed gallons of water and had just escaped drowning; so when I saw he was out of danger I began congratulating him on his good luck in my having saved his life. All he did was to answer, in French, that I had done nothing and that what mattered were his documents, which were worth a good few dozen crowns. There he was talking angrily, all wet and spluttering!
At this I turned to the guides we had, and told them to help the fool, and that I would see them paid. One of them gave him a hand, and with great skill and effort salvaged the documents, so that not one was lost: but the other guide would not stir a finger.
We had, by the way, made a common purse, and I was in charge of it. So after we had arrived at the place I mentioned above and had eaten dinner, I gave some coins from it to the guide who had helped to draw him out of the river. At this he said that I could give the money out of my own pocket, since he had no intention of giving any more than we had agreed to pay the man for his services as a guide. This made me tell him what I thought of him. And then the other guide – the one who had made no effort at all – confronted me and wanted me to pay him as well.
‘Only the man who has carried the cross deserves the reward,’ I said.
He retorted that he would very soon show me a cross that would bring tears to my eyes; and in reply to that I said that in that case I’d light a bit of candle to it and trust that he would be the first to weep.
The place where we were was on the border between the Germans and the Venetians. The fellow ran off and came back leading a crowd of people, with a great spear in his hand. I was mounted on my splendid horse, and I lowered the muzzle of my arquebus. Then I turned to my companions and said:
‘First, I’ll kill him. The rest of you must do your duty as well, since they’re highway murderers and have seized on this trivial pretext only to slaughter us.’
The owner of the inn where we had eaten called on one of the leaders, who was a fine old fellow, and begged him to put a stop to all the disorder.
‘He’s a very daring young man,’ he said, ‘and even if you were to succeed in cutting him to pieces he’d still kill a good few of you – and perhaps, after doing his worst, slip through your hands after all.’
The tumult died down, and their old leader said to me:
‘Go in peace: you would be hamstrung even if you had as many as a hundred men with you.’
I knew only too well that he was talking sense, and I had already made up my mind to die; but when I heard the insults die down I tossed my head and said:
‘I’d have done all I could to prove to you that I’m very much alive, and that I’m a man to reckon with.’
Anyhow we continued our journey, and that evening, at our first resting-place, we settled our accounts. Then I parted company with that detestable Frenchman, though I remained on very good terms with the other, the nobleman. We went on by ourselves to Ferrara, my three horses with us.
After I had dismounted I went along to the Duke’s court to pay my respects to his Excellency, so that I could leave next morning for Santa Maria da Loreto. I waited till two hours after nightfall, and then the Duke appeared. I kissed his hands, and, giving me a very affectionate welcome, he gave orders that I should be brought water for my hands. Then I said to him with a smile:
‘My lord, for over four months now I’ve eaten so little that one would hardly think I could have remained alive. So as I know I couldn’t enjoy the food on your royal table, I shall stay and talk with you while your Excellency is having supper; and both of us will enjoy ourselves at the same time, much more agreeably than if I were to eat with you.’
So we started talking to each other, spending the next three hours together in that way. Then I took my leave and went back to the inn, where I found a wonderful feast waiting for me: the Duke had sent me plenty of good wine and what remained of the food from his own table. So as it was more than two hours after the time I usually ate I did so with a great appetite; and it was the first time for over four months that I had been able to.
Next morning I left for Santa Maria da Loreto;186 and from there, after I had made my devotions, I journeyed to Rome,187 where I found my faithful Felice.188 I made him over the shop, with all its furniture and goods, and opened another next door to Sugherello the perfumer: it was bigger and more spacious. I reckoned that the great King of France would forget all about me, so I undertook a great deal of work for various noblemen, and besides this I worked away on the jug and basin that the Cardinal of Ferrara had commissioned.
I employed a whole crowd of workmen, and I did a good trade in gold and silver work. I had agreed
with my Perugian workman that he should himself keep a note of all that was spent on him – for clothing and many other things – and this, together with the expenses of the journey, came to about seventy crowns. We had also agreed that he should work off his debt by paying three crowns a month, since he was able to earn more than eight crowns through me. At the end of two months the rogue ran off, leaving me in the shop overwhelmed with work, and said that he refused to pay any more.
I was advised to seek redress by legal means, though my immediate impulse was to cut his arm off: and I would certainly have done so if my friends had not persuaded me that it was not worth while, since I would only lose my money, and perhaps once again lose Rome. There is no knowing what will happen in a fight, they said, but on the other hand, with the agreement I had, written in his own hand, I could have him arrested at once. I took their advice, even though I wanted to settle the matter in my own way. In fact I brought the case before the auditor of the Camera, and I won it. It took several months, but the upshot was that I had him imprisoned.
Then I was overwhelmed with important commissions: among other things, I had to take in hand all the gold and jewelled ornaments for the wife of Signor Gerolamo Orsino,189 father of Signor Paulo, who today is the son-in-law of our Duke Cosimo. These were nearly finished, but important work was heaped on me without respite. I had eight workmen, and all of us, for the sake of reputation and profit, worked day and night.
While I was so energetically employed I received a letter, dispatched in great haste, from the Cardinal of Ferrara. It read as follows:
‘Benvenuto, our dear friend. During these past few days the great and most Christian King remembered you and said that he wished to have you in his service. I told him in reply that you had promised to return without delay, whenever I should send for you on his Majesty’s behalf. At this his Majesty said that you must be sent whatever was necessary for the journey, and that it should be what a man of your sort deserved: and then straight away he ordered his Admiral to have me paid a thousand gold crowns from the Exchequer. Cardinal de’ Gaddi, who was present when this conversation took place, immediately made his way forward and told his Majesty that there was no need for him to give that order, because, he said, he had sent you enough money and you were already on your way. Now if, by chance, the contrary to what he said is true – and I suspect that this is the case – reply to my letter at once, and I shall pick up the thread and have you sent the money that our magnanimous King promised.’
The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini Page 24
