‘Certainly the Duke ought to know that: that this Bandinello of his is worthless.’
I remained at home, rarely showed myself at the palace, and worked very diligently in order to finish my statue. Then it fell to me to pay my workmen. What happened was that after the Duke had directed Lattanzio Gorini to pay me in respect of a number of workmen for eighteen months, he began to find it irksome and took the subsidy away from me. As a result I questioned Lattanzio as to why he did not pay me. In reply, gesticulating with his spidery hands and speaking in his tiny gnat’s voice, he said:
‘Why don’t you finish your statue? It’s believed that you’ll never finish it.’
I immediately replied, very angrily: ‘To hell with you and anyone else who thinks I won’t finish it!’
Then in desperation I returned home to my unlucky Perseus – not without tears, as I remembered the fine position I had left in Paris, where I was serving that splendid King Francis who gave me an abundance of everything, whereas in Florence I went completely without. More than once I made up my mind to abandon everything in despair. On one occasion, when I was in that mood, I mounted my handsome little horse, and with a hundred crowns in my pocket rode off to Fiesole to see a natural son of mine, whom I was keeping at nurse with a crony of mine, the wife of one of my workmen. When I arrived I found the boy in very good health: sad at heart, I kissed him; and then when I wanted to leave he refused to let me go, holding me fast with his little hands and breaking into a storm of crying and screaming. Seeing he was only somewhere around two years old, this was beyond belief.
As Bandinello used every evening to pay a visit to his farm above San Domenico,298 and in my desperation I had decided that if I came across him I would throw myself on him, I detached myself from my little boy and left him crying his eyes out. Just as I arrived at the Piazza di San Domenico on the way to Florence, Bandinello entered from the other end. I straight away resolved to carry out the murderous attack I had planned. I went up to him and then when I looked up I saw that he was unarmed and riding on a sorry-looking mule or donkey, along with a little boy of ten years old. As soon as he saw me he went white as death and began trembling from head to foot. Then, realizing what a vile action it would be on my part, I said: ‘Don’t be afraid, you miserable coward, I won’t lower myself by hitting you.’
He looked at me timidly and said nothing. Then my better self won and I thanked God whose power and goodness had prevented me from committing such a crime. Having got free of my diabolical rage my spirits rose and I said to myself:
‘If God gives me the grace to finish my work I hope by that means to vanquish all my perfidious enemies, and in that way I shall have a far greater and more glorious revenge than I would have had merely on one.’
And with this good resolution I went back home. Three days later I heard that my crony had smothered my only son.299 My grief was greater than any I had ever felt before. However I knelt down, and, not without tears, I thanked God in my usual fashion, saying:
‘My Lord, You gave him to me, and now You have taken him away; and for all things, with all my heart, I thank You.’
Then, for all that my grief had nearly crushed me, in my usual way I made a virtue out of necessity, and as best I could tried to accustom myself to it.
It was at this time that a young man, called Francesco, the son of Matteo the blacksmith, left Bandinello. He asked me if I would give him work: I was agreeable and set him on cleaning the Medusa, which had already been cast. A fortnight later this young man told me that he had been speaking with his master, that is with Bandinello, and that Bandinello sent to say that if I wanted to do a marble statue, he made the offer of a fine block of marble as a gift.
I immediately replied: ‘Tell him I accept: and it may well be the marble for his epitaph, since he’s always provoking me, and seems to have forgotten the great risk he ran when he met me on the piazza of San Domenico. Now tell him that I want it in any case. I never speak of him but the beast is always annoying me. In fact I believe that you came to work for me because he sent you to spy on my affairs. Anyhow go and tell him that I will have the marble in spite of him; and bring it back with you.’
After many days had passed without my putting in an appearance at the palace, on the spur of the moment I went along there one morning to find that the Duke had all but finished dinner. From what I heard his Excellency had been talking favourably about me that morning, and among other things had praised my skill in setting jewels. As a result, when the Duchess saw me, she sent for me through Messer Sforza,300 and when I presented myself her Most Illustrious Excellency begged me to set for her a small pointed diamond. She said that she would always wear the ring on her finger and gave me the measurements and the stone, which was worth about a hundred crowns, begging me to do the work quickly. Immediately the Duke began to discuss the matter with the Duchess.
‘Certainly,’ he said, ‘Benvenuto used to be without rival in this art: but now that he’s given it up I imagine that it will be too much trouble for him to make a small ring like the one you want. I beg you not to burden him with it; even though it’s a small matter it will be troublesome for him, seeing that he’s out of practice.’
At this I thanked the Duke and then begged him to let me render this small service to the Duchess. I began work on it without delay, and it was finished in a few days. It was for her little finger, and so I fashioned four little cherubs in relief and four little masks, to form the ring. I also fashioned some enamelled fruits and links so that together the jewel and the ring made a beautiful show. Straight away I took it to the Duchess who very graciously told me that I had made her a lovely object, and said that she would not forget me. She sent the ring as a gift to King Philip,301 and from then on she was always ordering something or other from me, but so charmingly that I always forced myself to serve her, for all that I saw little money in return – and God knows I had great need of some, seeing that I wanted to finish my Perseus and had hired some young men to help me, paying them out of my own pocket. Once more I began to put in an appearance more often than I had been doing.
One feast day or other I went along to the palace, after dinner, and arriving at the Clock Hall noticed that the door of the wardrobe was open. I approached nearer and then the Duke called out, greeting me pleasantly:
‘You’re welcome! Look at that little chest that the lord Stefano of Palestrina 302 has sent me as a present: open it and let’s see what it is.’
I opened it at once and said to the Duke: ‘My lord, it’s a statue in Greek marble, and it’s a splendid piece of work: I don’t remember ever having seen such a beautiful antique statue of a little boy, so beautifully fashioned. Let me make an offer to your Most Illustrious Excellency to restore it – the head and the arms and the feet. I’ll add an eagle so that we can christen it Ganymede. And although it’s not for me to patch up statues – the sort of work done by botchers, who still make a bad job of it – the craftsmanship of this great artist calls me to serve him.’
The Duke was tremendously delighted that the statue was so beautiful, and he asked me a multitude of questions, saying:
‘Tell me, my dear Benvenuto, exactly what is the achievement of this artist that makes you marvel so much?’
So then, as far as I could, I did my best to make the Duke appreciate such beauty, and the fine intelligence and rare style that it contained. I held forth on these things for a long time, all the more willingly as I knew how much his Excellency enjoyed my doing so.
While I was entertaining the Duke in this agreeable way a page happened to leave the wardrobe and, as he went out, Bandinello came in. When he saw him the Duke’s face clouded over and he said with an unfriendly expression: ‘What are you after?’
Bandinello, instead of replying at once, stared at the little chest where the statue was revealed and with his usual malignant laugh, shaking his head, he said, turning towards the Duke:
‘My lord, here you have one of those things I have so oft
en mentioned to you. You see, those ancients knew nothing about anatomy, and as a result their works are full of errors.’
I remained silent, taking no notice of anything he was saying; in fact I had turned my back on him. As soon as the beast had finished his disagreeable babbling, the Duke said:
‘But Benvenuto, this completely contradicts what you have just been proving with so many beautiful arguments. Let’s hear you defend the statue a little.’
In reply to this noble little speech of the Duke’s, so pleasantly made, I said:
‘My lord, your Most Illustrious Excellency must understand that Baccio Bandinello is thoroughly evil, and always has been. So no matter what he looks at, as soon as his disagreeable eyes catch sight of it, even though it’s of superlative quality it is at once turned to absolute evil. But for myself, being only drawn to what is good, I see things in a more wholesome way. So what I told your Illustrious Excellency about this extremely beautiful statue is the unblemished truth; and what Bandinello said about it reflects only the badness of his own nature.’
The Duke stood there, listening with great enjoyment, and while I was talking Bandinello kept twisting and turning and making the most unimaginably ugly faces – and his face was ugly enough already. Suddenly the Duke moved off, making his way through some ground-floor rooms, and Bandinello followed him. The chamberlains took me by the cloak and led me after them. So we followed the Duke till his Most Illustrious Excellency reached an apartment where he sat down with Bandinello and me on either side of him. I stood there without saying anything, and the men standing round – several of his Excellency’s servants – all stared hard at Bandinello, sniggering a little among themselves over what I had said in the room above. Then Bandinello began to gabble.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘when I uncovered my Hercules and Cacus I am sure that more than a hundred wretched sonnets were written about me, containing the worst abuse one could possibly imagine this rabble capable of.’303
Replying to this, I said: ‘My lord, when our Michelangelo Buonarroti revealed his Sacristy,304 where there are so many fine statues to be seen, our splendid, talented Florentine artists, the friends of truth and excellence, wrote more than a hundred sonnets, every man competing to give the highest praise. As Bandinello’s work deserved all the abuse that he says was thrown at it, so Buonarroti’s deserved all the good that was said of it.’
Bandinello grew so angry that he nearly burst: he turned to me and said: ‘And what faults can you point out?’
‘I shall tell you if you’ve the patience to listen.’
‘Go on then.’
The Duke and all the others who were there waited attentively, and I began.
First I said: ‘I must say that it hurts me to point out the defects in your work: but I shall not do that, I shall tell you what the artists of Florence say about it.’
One moment the wretched fellow was muttering something unpleasant, the next shifting his feet and gesticulating; he made me so furious that I began in a much more insulting way than I would have done had he behaved otherwise.
‘The expert school of Florence says that if Hercules’ hair were shaven off there wouldn’t be enough of his pate to hold in his brain; and that one can’t be sure whether his face is that of a man or a cross between a lion and an ox; that it’s not looking the right way; and that it’s badly joined to the neck, so clumsily and unskilfully that nothing worse has ever been seen; and that his ugly shoulders are like the two pommels of an ass’s pack-saddle; that his breasts and the rest of his muscles aren’t based on a man’s but are copied from a great sack full of melons, set upright against a wall. The loins look as if they are copied from a sack of long marrows. As for the legs, it’s impossible to understand how they’re attached to the sorry-looking trunk; it’s impossible to see on which leg he’s standing, or on which he’s balancing, and he certainly doesn’t seem to be resting his weight on both, as is the case with some of the work done by those artists who know something. What can be seen is that he’s leaning forward more than a third of a cubit; and this by itself is the worst and the most intolerable error that useless, vulgar craftsmen can make. As for the arms, it’s said that they both stick out awkwardly, that they’re so inelegant that it seems you’ve never set eyes on a live nude; that the right leg of Hercules is joined to that of Cacus in the middle in such a way that if one of the two were removed both of them – not merely one – would be without a calf. And they say that one of the feet of the Hercules is buried, and the other looks as if someone has lit a fire under it.’
The fellow couldn’t stay quiet patiently and let me carry on describing the great defects of the Cacus. First, because I was telling the truth, and second, because I was revealing it clearly to the Duke and the others standing around. They were expressing their amazement and showed that they realized I was justified up to the hilt.
Suddenly the fellow cried out: ‘Oh, you wicked slanderer, what about my design?’
I replied that anyone who was good at designing would never make a bad statue, therefore I judged that his design was the same quality as his work. And then, seeing how the Duke and the others were looking, and outraged at their attitude and expressions, he let his insolence get the better of him, turned his foul, ugly face towards me and burst out: ‘Oh, keep quiet, you dirty sodomite!’
At that word the Duke frowned angrily, and the others tightened their lips and stared hard at him. In the face of this wicked insult I choked with fury, but instantly found the right answer and said:
‘You madman, you’re going too far. But I wish to God I did know how to indulge in such a noble practice: after all we read that Jove enjoyed it with Ganymede in paradise, and here on earth it is the practice of the greatest emperors and the greatest kings of the world. I’m an insignificant, humble man, I haven’t the means or the knowledge to meddle in such a marvellous matter.’
At this no one could restrain himself: the Duke and the others raised a great shout of laughter which shook the whole place. But for all that I took the incident jokingly, I can tell you, my kind readers, my heart was bursting at the thought that this man, the most filthy scoundrel ever born, was bold enough – in the presence of such a great prince – to hurl at me an insult of that kind. But, you know, it was the Duke, not me, whom he insulted. For if I had not been in such noble company I’d have struck him dead.
When the filthy, ruffianly blockhead saw that those noblemen couldn’t stop laughing, in order to prevent their mocking him so much he began to change the subject.
‘This Benvenuto,’ he said, ‘goes around boasting that I’ve promised him a block of marble.’
When he said this I immediately interrupted: ‘What! Didn’t you send Francesco, the son of Matteo the blacksmith and your own apprentice, to tell me that if I wanted to work in marble you’d give me a block? And I’ve accepted your offer, and I want it.’
Then he replied: ‘You can be sure you’ll never have it.’
At this, still fuming at the lying insults he had hurled at me before, I lost control of myself and, forgetting the presence of the Duke, said in a great fury:
‘I tell you plainly that if you don’t send the marble to my house, you had better find yourself another world, since in this one I’ll not rest till I’ve deflated you.’
Immediately, remembering that the great Duke was present, I turned humbly to his Excellency and said:
‘My lord, one fool makes a hundred: this man’s madness has made me lose sight of your Excellency’s right to respect, and I forgot myself. Forgive me.’
Then the Duke said to Bandinello: ‘Is it true? Did you promise him the marble?’
Bandinello said that it was true. The Duke said to me: ‘Go to the Opera and choose a piece that suits your purpose.’
I told him that Bandinello had promised to send it to my house. There was a tremendous argument, but I would not have it any other way. The next morning a block of marble was brought to my house; I asked who sent it, an
d they told me that it was from Bandinello and that it was the one he had promised me.
I at once had it carried into the workshop, where I began to use a chisel on it. I made the model at the same time as I was working on the marble, but I was so eager to work in marble that I was too impatient to make a model with the care that is necessary. Then I heard the marble ring false, and more than once I regretted ever having begun. All the same I carved what I could from it – that is, the Apollo and Hyacinth,305 which can still be seen in its imperfect form in my shop. While I was working the Duke used to visit me, and he said very often: ‘Leave the bronze for the time being and let me see you do some work on the marble.’
Straight away I would take the chisels and work away with confidence. The Duke questioned me about the model I had made for the marble and in reply I said:
‘My lord, the marble is all cracked, but despite that I shall carve something out of it. I haven’t therefore been able to decide about the model, though I shall carry on with the statue as best I can.’
Acting very quickly, the Duke had a block of Greek marble sent to me from Rome, so that I might be able to restore his antique Ganymede,306 which had been the cause of my quarrel with Bandinello.
When it had arrived I decided that it was a shame to cut it up to make the head and arms and so forth for the Ganymede, and so I provided myself with some other marble. For the block of Greek marble I made a little wax model which I called Narcissus.307
As there were in the marble two holes, more than a quarter of a cubit deep and a good two fingers wide, I gave my statue the attitude that can be seen, so as to avoid the holes and cut them out of the figure. But for tens of years the marble had been exposed to rain, and with the holes always full of water the rain had penetrated so deeply that the block was decayed; and how rotten the top hole was was proved later on, when the Arno was in flood308 and the water rose more than a cubit and a half in my shop. The Narcissus was on a wooden block, and as a result the water toppled it over and it broke across the breasts. I pieced it together, and in order to disguise the crack I added the garland of flowers which can be seen on its chest. I brought it to completion, working before dawn and even on feast days with the sole idea of not losing time from my work on the Perseus.
The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini Page 43
