IV Benvenuto Cellini
“Now we will leave the fairy tales,” said Uncle Fritz, “and begin on modern times.”
“Modern times means since 1492,” said Alice,—“the only date in history I am quite sure of, excepting 1866.”
“Eighteen-hundred and sixty-six,” said John Goodrich,—“the Annus Mirabilis, celebrated for the birth of Miss Alice Francis and Mr. J. G.”
“Hush, hush! Uncle Fritz wants to say something.”
“We will leave the fairy tales,” said poor chicken-pecked Uncle Fritz, “and begin with Benvenuto Cellini. Who has seen any of his work?”
Several of the girls who had been in Europe remembered seeing gold and silver work of Benvenuto Cellini’s in the museums. Uncle Fritz told them that the little hand-bell used on his own tea-table was modelled at Chicopee, in Massachusetts, from a bell which was the design of Benvenuto Cellini; and he sent for the bell that the children might see how ingenious was the ornamentation, and how simply the different designs were connected together.
He told Alice she might read first from Vasari’s account of him. Vasari’s book, which the children now saw for the first time, is a very entertaining one. Vasari was himself an artist, of the generation just following Michael Angelo. He was, indeed, the contemporary of Raphael. But he is remembered now, not for his pictures, nor for his work in architecture, both of which were noted in his time, but for his lives of the most excellent painters, sculptors, and architects, which was first published in 1550. Benvenuto Cellini was born ten years before Vasari, and here is a part of Vasari’s life of him.
Life of Benvenuto Cellini
Benvenuto Cellini, citizen of Florence, born in 1500, at present a sculptor, in his youth cultivated the goldsmith’s business, and had no equal in that branch. He set jewels, and adorned them with diminutive figures, exquisitely formed, and some of them so curious and fanciful that nothing finer or more beautiful can be conceived. At Rome he made for Pope Clement VII. a button to be worn upon his pontifical habit, fixing a diamond to it with the most exquisite art. He was employed to make the stamps for the Roman mint, and there never have been seen finer coins than those that were struck in Rome at that period.
After the death of Pope Clement, Benvenuto returned to Florence, where he made stamps with the head of Duke Alessandro, for the mint, wonderfully beautiful. Benvenuto, having at last devoted himself to sculpture and casting statues, made in France many works, while he was employed at the Court of King Francis I. He afterwards came back to his native country, where he executed in metal the statue of Perseus, who cut off Medusa’s head. This work was brought to perfection with the greatest art and diligence imaginable.
Though I might here enlarge on the productions of Benvenuto, who always shewed himself a man of great spirit and vivacity, bold, active, enterprising, and formidable to his enemies,—a man, in short, who knew as well how to speak to princes as to exert himself in his art,—I shall add nothing further, since he has written an account of his life and works, and a treatise on goldsmith’s work as well as on casting statues and many other subjects, with more art and eloquence than it is possible for me to imitate. I shall therefore content myself with this account of his chief performances.
Benvenuto was quite proud of his own abilities as a writer. Very fortunately for us he has left his own memoirs. Here is the introduction.
Benvenuto’s Autobiography
“It is a duty incumbent on upright and credible men of all ranks, who have performed anything noble or praiseworthy, to record, in their own writing, the events of their lives; yet they should not commence this honorable task before they have passed their fortieth year. Such at least is my opinion, now that I have completed my fifty-eighth year, and am settled in Florence.
“Looking back on some delightful and happy events of my life, and on many misfortunes so truly overwhelming that the appalling retrospect makes me wonder how I reached this age, in vigor and prosperity, through God’s goodness, I have resolved to publish an account of my life.
“My grandfather, Andrea Cellini, was still living when I was about three years of age, and he was then above a hundred. As they were one day removing a water-pipe, a large scorpion, which they had not perceived, came out of it. The scorpion descended upon the ground and had got under a great bench, when I, seeing it, ran and caught it in my hand. This scorpion was of such a size that whilst I held it in my little hand, it put out its tail on one side, and on the other darted its two mouths. I ran overjoyed to my grandfather, crying out, ‘Grandfather, look at my pretty little crab!’ The good old man, who knew it to be a scorpion, was so frightened, and so apprehensive for my safety, that he seemed ready to drop down dead, and begged me with great eagerness to give the creature to him; but I grasped it the harder and cried, for I did not choose to part with it. My father, who was in the house, ran to us upon hearing the noise, and, happening just at that instant to espy a pair of scissors, he laid hold of them, and, by caressing and playing with me, he contrived to cut off the head and tail of the scorpion. Then, finding I had received no harm from the venomous reptile, he pronounced it a happy omen.”
His father taught him to play upon the flute, and wished him to devote himself to music; but his own inclinations were different.
“Having attained the age of fifteen, I engaged myself, against my father’s inclinations, with a goldsmith named Antonio di Sandro, an excellent artist and a very worthy man. My father would not have him allow me any wages; for this reason, that since I voluntarily applied myself to this art, I might have an opportunity to withdraw whenever I thought proper. So great was my inclination to improve, that in a few months I rivalled the most skilful journeyman in the business, and began to reap some fruits from my labor. I continued, however, to play sometimes, through complaisance to my father, either upon the flute or the horn; and I constantly drew tears and deep sighs from him every time he heard me. From a feeling of filial piety, I often gave him that satisfaction, endeavoring to persuade him that it gave me also particular pleasure.
“Once when I was staying at Pisa, my father wrote to me in every letter exhorting me not to neglect my flute, in which he had taken so much pains to instruct me. Upon this, I entirely lost all inclination to return to him; and to such a degree did I hate that abominable flute, that I thought myself in a sort of paradise in Pisa, where I never once played upon that instrument.”
At the age of twenty-three (in 1523), Cellini went to Rome, where he did much work for the Pope, Clement VII.
“About this time so dreadful an epidemic disease prevailed in Rome, that several thousands died every day. Somewhat terrified at this calamity, I began to indulge myself in certain recreations, as the fancy took me. On holidays I amused myself with visiting the antiquities of that city, and sometimes took their figures in wax; at other times, I made drawings of them. As these antiquities are all ruinous edifices, where a number of pigeons build their nests, I had a mind to divert myself among them with my fowling-piece, and often returned home laden with pigeons of the largest size. But I never chose to put more than a single ball into my piece, and in this manner, being a good marksman, I procured a considerable quantity of game. The fowling-piece was, both on the inside and the outside, as bright as a looking-glass. I likewise made the powder as fine as the minutest dust, and in the use of it I discovered some of the most admirable secrets that ever were known till this time. When I had charged my piece with a quantity of powder equal in weight to the fifth part of the ball, it carried two hundred paces, point blank.
“While I was enjoying these pleasures, my spirits suddenly revived. I no longer had my usual gloom, and I worked to more purpose than when my attention was wholly engrossed by business; on the whole, my gun turned rather to my advantage than the contrary.
“All Italy was now up in arms, and the Constable Bourbon, finding there were no troops in Rome, eagerly advanced with his army towards that capital. Upon the news of his approach, all the inhabitants took up arms. I engaged fifty brave young men to serve under me, and we were well paid and kindly treated.
“The army of the Duke of Bourbon having already appeared before the walls of Rome, Alessandro del Bene requested that I would go with him to oppose the enemy. I complied, and, taking one of the stoutest youths with us,—we were afterwards joined by another,—we came up to the walls of Campo Santo, and there descried that great army which was employing every effort to enter the town at that part of the wall to which we had approached. Many young men were slain without the walls, where they fought with the utmost fury; there was a remarkably thick mist.
“Levelling my arquebuse where I saw the thickest crowd of the enemy, I discharged it with a deliberate aim at a person who seemed to be lifted above the rest; but the mist prevented me from distinguishing whether he were on horseback or on foot. I then cautiously approached the walls, and perceived that there was an extraordinary confusion among the assailants, occasioned by our having shot the Duke of Bourbon; he was, as I understood afterwards, that chief personage whom I saw raised above the rest.”
The Pope was induced by an enemy of Benvenuto, the Cardinal Salviati, to send for a rival goldsmith, Tobbia, to come to Rome. On his arrival both were summoned into the Pope’s presence.
“He then commanded each of us to draw a design for setting a unicorn’s horn, the most beautiful that ever was seen, which had cost 17,000 ducats. As the Pope proposed making a present of it to King Francis, he chose to have it first richly adorned with gold; so he employed us to draw the designs. When we had finished them we carried them to the Pope. Tobbia’s design was in the form of a candlestick; the horn was to enter it like a candle, and at the bottom of the candlestick he had represented four little unicorns’ heads,—a most simple invention. As soon as I saw it, I could not contain myself so as to avoid smiling at the oddity of the conceit. The Pope, perceiving this, said, ‘Let me see that design of yours.’ It was the single head of a unicorn, fitted to receive the horn. I had made the most beautiful sort of head conceivable, for I drew it partly in the form of a horse’s head, and partly in that of a hart’s, adorned with the finest sort of wreaths and other devices; so that no sooner was my design seen but the whole Court gave it the preference.”
Benvenuto continued to make many beautiful things for Pope Clement VII. up to the time of his death. That Pope was succeeded in the papal chair by Cardinal Farnese (Paul III.), on the 13th of October, 1534.
“I had formed a resolution to set out for France, as well because I perceived that the Pope’s favor was withdrawn from me by means of slanderers who misrepresented my services, as for fear that those of my enemies who had most influence might still do me some greater injury. For these reasons I was desirous to remove to some other country, and see whether fortune would there prove more favorable to me. Leaving Rome, I bent my course to Florence, whence I travelled on to Bologna, Venice, and Padua.”
He reached Paris, with two workmen whom he took with him from Rome, “without meeting any ill accident, and travelling on in uninterrupted mirth.” But being dissatisfied with his reception there, he returned instantly to Rome, where his fears were realized; for he was arrested by order of the Pope, and made a prisoner in the Castle of St. Angelo.
“This was the first time I ever knew the inside of a prison, and I was then in my thirty-seventh year. The constable of the Castle of St. Angelo was a countryman of mine, a Florentine, named Signor Giorgio Ugolini. This worthy gentleman behaved to me with the greatest politeness, permitting me to walk freely about the castle on my parole of honor, and for no other reason but because he saw the severity and injustice of my treatment.
“Finding I had been treated with so much rigor in the affair, I began to think seriously about my escape. I got my servants to bring me new thick sheets, and did not send back the dirty ones. Upon their asking me for them, I answered that I had given them away to some of the poor soldiers. I pulled all the straw out of the tick of my bed, and burned it; for I had a chimney in the room where I lay. I then cut those sheets into a number of slips each about one third of a cubit in width; and when I thought I had made a sufficient quantity to reach from the top to the bottom of the lofty tower of the Castle of St. Angelo, I told my servants that I had given away as much of my linen as I thought proper, and desired they would take care to bring me clean sheets, adding that I would constantly return the dirty ones.
“The constable of the castle had annually a certain disorder which totally deprived him of his senses; and when the fit came upon him, he was talkative to excess. Every year he had some different whim: one time he fancied himself metamorphosed into a pitcher of oil; another time he thought himself a frog, and began to leap as such; another time he imagined he was dead, and it was found necessary to humor his conceit by making a show of burying him; thus he had every year some new frenzy. This year he fancied himself a bat, and when he went to take a walk, he sometimes made just such a noise as bats do; he likewise used gestures with his hands and body, as if he were going to fly. His physicians and his old servants, who knew his disorder, procured him all the pleasures and amusements they could think of, and as they found he delighted greatly in my conversation, they frequently came to me to conduct me to his apartment, where the poor man often detained me three or four hours chatting with him.
“He asked me whether I had ever had a fancy to fly. I answered that I had always been very ready to attempt such things as men found most difficult; and that with regard to flying, as God had given me a body admirably well calculated for running, I had even resolution enough to attempt to fly. He then proposed to me to explain how I could contrive it. I replied that when I attentively considered the several creatures that fly, and thought of effecting by art what they do by the force of nature, I did not find one so fit to imitate as the bat. As soon as the poor man heard mention made of a bat, he cried out aloud, ‘It is very true! a bat is the thing.’ He then addressed himself to me, and said, ‘Benvenuto, if you had the opportunity, would you have the heart to make an attempt to fly?’ I answered that if he would give me leave, I had courage enough to attempt to fly by means of a pair of wings waxed over. He said thereupon, ‘I should like to see you fly; but as the Pope has enjoined me to watch over you with the utmost care, I am resolved to keep you locked up with a hundred keys, that you may not slip out of my hands.’ I said, before all present, ‘Confine me as close as you please, I will contrive to make my escape, notwithstanding.’”
At night, with a pair of pincers which he had secured, he removed the nails which fastened the plates of iron fixed upon the door, imitating with wax the heads of the nails he took out, so that their absence need not be seen.
“One holiday evening, the constable being very much disordered, he scarce said anything else but that he was become a bat, and desired his people that if Benvenuto should happen to escape, they should take no notice of it, for he must soon catch me, as he should doubtless be better able to fly by night than I; adding, ‘Benvenuto is only a counterfeit bat, but I am a bat in real earnest.’
“As I had formed a resolution to attempt my escape that night, I began by praying fervently to Almighty God that it would please him to assist me in the enterprise. Two hours before daybreak, I took the iron plates from the door with great trouble. I at last forced the door, and having taken with me my slips of linen, which I had rolled up in bundles with the utmost care, I went out and got upon the right side of the tower, and leaped upon two tiles of the roof with the greatest ease. I was in a white doublet, and had on a pair of white half-hose, over which I wore a pair of little light boots, that reached half-way up my legs, and in one of these I put my dagger. I then took the end of one of my bundles of long slips, which I had made out of the sheets of my bed, and fastened it to one of the tiles of the roof that happened to jut out. Then letting myself down gently, the whole weight of my body being sustained by my arm, I reached the ground. It was not a moonlight night, but the stars shone with resplendent lustre. When I had touched the ground, I first contemplated the great height which I had descended with so much courage, and then walked away in high joy, thinking I had recovered my liberty. But I soon found myself mistaken, for the constable had caused two pretty high walls to be erected on that side. I managed to fix a long pole against the first wall, and by the strength of my arms to climb to the top of it. I then fastened my other string of slips, and descended down the steep wall.
“There was still another one; and in letting myself down, being unable to hold out any longer, I fell, and, striking my head, became quite insensible. I continued in that state about an hour and a half, as nearly as I can guess. The day beginning to break, the cool breeze that precedes the rising of the sun brought me to my senses; but I conceived a strange notion that I had been beheaded, and was then in purgatory. I recovered by degrees my strength and powers, and, perceiving that I had got out of the castle, I soon recollected all that had befallen me. Upon attempting to rise from the ground, I found that my right leg was broken, three inches above the heel, which threw me into a terrible consternation. Cutting with my dagger the part of my string of slips I had left, I bandaged my leg as well as I could. I then crept on my hands and knees towards the gate with my dagger in my hand, and effected my egress. It was about five hundred paces from the place where I had had my fall to the gate by which I entered the city. It was then broad daylight. As I happened to meet with a water-carrier, who had loaded his ass, and filled his vessels with water, I called to him, and begged he would put me upon the beast’s back, and carry me to the landing-place of the steps of St. Peter’s Church. I offered to give him a gold crown, and, so saying, I clapped my hand upon my purse, which was very well lined. The honest waterman instantly took me upon his back, and carried me to the steps before St. Peter’s Church, where I desired him to leave me and run back to his ass.
“Whilst I was crawling along upon all four, one of the servants of Cardinal Cornaro knew me, and, running immediately to his master’s apartment, awakened him out of his sleep, saying to him, ‘My most reverend Lord, here is your jeweller, Benvenuto, who has made his escape out of the castle, and is crawling along upon all four, quite besmeared with blood.’ The cardinal, the moment he heard this, said to his servants, ‘Run, and bring him hither to my apartment upon your backs.’ When I came into his presence the good cardinal bade me fear nothing, and immediately sent for an excellent surgeon, who set the bone, bandaged my leg, and bled me. The cardinal then caused me to be put into a private apartment, and went directly to the Vatican, in order to intercede in my behalf with the Pope.
“Meanwhile the report of my escape made a great noise all over Rome; for the long string of sheeting fastened to the top of the lofty tower of the castle had excited attention, and the inhabitants ran in crowds to behold the sight. By this time the frenzy of the constable had reached its highest pitch; he wanted, in spite of all his servants, to fly from the same tower himself, declaring there was but one way to retake me, and that was to fly after me. He caused himself to be carried into the presence of his Holiness, and began a terrible outcry, saying that I had promised him, upon my honor, that I would not fly away, and had flown away notwithstanding.”
The Cardinal Cornaro, however, and others interceded for Benvenuto with the Pope, on account of his courage, and the extraordinary efforts of his ingenuity, which seemed to surpass human capacity. The Pope said he had intended to keep him near his person, and to prevent him from returning to France, adding, “I am concerned to hear of his sufferings, however. Bid him take care of his health; and when he is thoroughly recovered, it shall be my study to make him some amends for his past troubles.” He was visited by young and old, persons of all ranks.
After this, Benvenuto went once more to France, where he was received with high consideration by Francis I., who gave him, for his home and workshop in Paris, a large old castle called the Nesle, of a triangular form, close to the walls of the city. Here, with workmen brought with him from Italy, he began many great works.
“Being thus become a favorite of the king, I was universally admired. As soon as I had received silver to make it of, I began to work on the statue of Jupiter, and took into my service several journeymen. We worked day and night with the utmost assiduity, insomuch that, having finished Jupiter, Vulcan, and Mars in earth, and Jupiter being pretty forward in silver, my shop began to make a grand show. Just about this time the king made his appearance at Paris, and I went to pay my respects to him. When his Majesty saw me, he called to me in high spirits, and asked me whether I had anything curious to show him at my shop, for he intended to call there. I told him of all I had done, and he expressed an earnest desire to see my performances; and after dinner that day, all the nobility belonging to the Court of France repaired to my shop.
“I had just come home, and was beginning to work, when the king made his appearance at my castle gate. Upon hearing the sound of so many hammers, he commanded his retinue to be silent. All my people were at work, so that the king came upon us quite unexpectedly. As he entered the saloon, the first object he perceived was myself with a large piece of plate in my hand, which was to make the body of Jupiter; another was employed on the head, another again on the legs, so that the shop resounded with the beating of hammers. His Majesty was highly pleased, and returned to his palace, after having conferred so many favors on me that it would be tedious to enumerate them.
“Having with the utmost diligence finished the beautiful statue of Jupiter, with its gilt pedestal, I placed it upon a wooden socle, which scarce made any appearance, and within that socle I fixed four little globes of wood, which were more than half hidden in their sockets, and so contrived that a little child could with the utmost ease move this statue of Jupiter backwards and forwards, and turn it about. I took it with me to Fontainebleau, where the King then resided. I was told to put it in the gallery,—a place which might be called a corridor, about two hundred paces long, adorned and enriched with pictures and pieces of sculpture, amongst them some of the finest imitations of the antique statues of Rome. Here also I introduced my Jupiter; and when I saw this great display of the wonders of art, I said to myself, ‘This is like passing between the pikes of the enemy; Heaven protect me from all danger!’
“This figure of Jupiter had a thunderbolt in his right hand, and by his attitude seemed to be just going to throw it; in his left I had placed a globe, and amongst the flames I had with great dexterity put a piece of white torch. On the approach of night I lighted the torch in the hand of Jupiter; and as it was raised somewhat above his head, the light fell upon the statue, and caused it to appear to much greater advantage than it would otherwise have done. When I saw his Majesty enter with several great lords and noblemen, I ordered my boy to push the statue before him, and this motion, being made with admirable contrivance, caused it to appear alive; thus the other figures in the gallery were left somewhat behind, and the eyes of all the beholders were first struck with my performance.
“The king immediately cried out: ‘This is one of the finest productions of art that ever was beheld. I, who take pleasure in such things and understand them, could never have conceived a piece of work the hundredth part so beautiful!’”
Cellini, however, who was exacting and sensitive, became dissatisfied with the treatment of the King of France; and, leaving his workmen at his tower of the Nesle, he returned to Italy, and engaged in the service of Cosmo de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, who assigned him a house to work in.
His chief performance here was a bronze statue of Perseus for the fine square before the Palazzo Vecchio. After many drawbacks, doubts, and difficulties,—
“I now took courage, resolving to depend on myself, and banished all those thoughts which from time to time occasioned me great inquietude, and made me sorely repent my ever having quitted France. I still flattered myself that if I could but finish my statue of Perseus, all my labors would be converted to delight, and meet with a glorious and happy reward.
“This statue was intended to be of bronze, five ells in height, of one piece, and hollow. I first formed my model of clay, more slender than the statue was intended to be. I then baked it, and covered it with wax of the thickness of a finger, which I modelled into the perfect form of the statue. In order to effect in concave what the wax represented in convex, I covered the wax with clay, and baked this second covering. Thus, the wax dissolving, and escaping by fissures left open for the purpose, I obtained, between the first model and the second covering, a space for the introduction of the metal. In order to introduce the bronze without moving the first model, I placed the model in a pit dug under the furnace, and by means of pipes and apertures in the model itself, I meant to introduce the liquid metal.
“After I had made its coat of earth, covered it well, and bound it properly with irons, I began by means of a slow fire to draw off the wax, which melted away by many vent-holes,—for the more of these are made, the better the moulds are filled; and when I had entirely stripped off the wax, I made a sort of fence round my Perseus, that is, round the mould, of bricks, piling them one upon another, and leaving several vacuities for the fire to exhale at. I next began gradually to put on the wood, and kept a constant fire for two days and two nights, till, the wax being quite off and the mould well baked, I began to dig a hole to bury my mould in, and observed all those fine methods of proceeding that are proscribed by our art. When I had completely dug my hole, I took my mould, and by means of levers and strong cables directed it with care, and suspended it a cubit above the level of the furnace, so that it hung exactly in the middle of the hole. I then let it gently down to the very bottom of the furnace, and placed it with all the care and exactness I possibly could. After I had finished this part of my task I began to make a covering of the very earth I had taken off; and in proportion as I raised the earth, I made vents for it, of a sort of tubes of baked earth, generally used for conduits, and other things of a similar nature.
“I had caused my furnace to be filled with several pieces of brass and bronze, and heaped them upon one another in the manner taught us by our art, taking particular care to leave a passage for the flames, that the metal might the sooner assume its color, and dissolve into a fluid. Thus, with great alacrity, I excited my men to lay on the pine-wood, which, because of the oiliness of the resinous matter that oozes from the pine-tree and that my furnace was admirably well made, burned at such a rate that I was continually obliged to run to and fro, which greatly fatigued me. I, however, bore the hardship; but, to add to my misfortune, the shop took fire, and we were all very much afraid that the roof would fall in and crush us. From another quarter, that is, from the garden, the sky poured in so much rain and wind that it cooled my furnace.
“Thus did I continue to struggle with these cross accidents for several hours, and exerted myself to such a degree that my constitution, though robust, could no longer bear such severe hardship, and I was suddenly attacked by a most violent intermitting fever; in short, I was so ill that I found myself under a necessity of lying down upon my bed. This gave me great concern, but it was unavoidable. I thereupon addressed myself to my assistants, who were about ten in number, saying to them: ‘Be careful to observe the method which I have shown you, and use all possible expedition; for the metal will soon be ready. You cannot mistake; these two worthy men here will quickly make the orifices. With two such directors you can certainly contrive to pour out the hot metal, and I have no doubt but my mould will be filled completely. I find myself extremely ill, and really believe that in a few hours this severe disorder will put an end to my life.’ Thus I left them in great sorrow, and went to bed. I then ordered the maids to carry victuals and drink into the shop for all the men, and told them I did not expect to live till the next morning. In this manner did I continue for two hours in a violent fever, which I every moment perceived to increase, and I was incessantly crying out, ‘I am dying, I am dying.’
“My housekeeper was one of the most sensible and affectionate women in the world. She rebuked me for giving way to vain fears, and at the same time attended me with the greatest kindness and care imaginable; however, seeing me so very ill, and terrified to such a degree, she could not contain herself, but shed a flood of tears, which she endeavored to conceal from me. Whilst we were both in this deep affliction, I perceived a man enter the room, who in his person appeared to be as crooked and distorted as a great S, and began to express himself in these terms, in a dismal and melancholy voice: ‘Alas, poor Benvenuto, your work is spoiled, and the misfortune admits of no remedy.’
“No sooner had I heard the words uttered by this messenger of evil, but I cried out so loud that my voice might be heard to the skies, and got out of bed. I began immediately to dress, and, giving plenty of kicks and cuffs to the maidservants and the boy as they offered to help me on with my clothes, I complained bitterly in these terms: ‘Oh, you envious and treacherous wretches, this is a piece of villany contrived on purpose; but I will sift it to the bottom, and before I die give such proofs who I am as shall not fail to astonish the whole world.’ Having huddled on my clothes, I went, with a mind boding evil, to the shop, where I found all those whom I had left so alert and in such high spirits, standing in the utmost confusion and astonishment. I thereupon addressed them thus: ‘Listen, all of you, to what I am going to say; and since you either would not or could not follow the method I pointed out, obey me now that I am present. My work is before us; and let none of you offer to oppose or contradict me, for such cases as this require activity and not counsel.’ Hereupon one of them had the assurance to say to me, ‘Look you, Benvenuto, you have undertaken a work which our art cannot compass, and which is not to be effected by human power.’
“Hearing these words, I turned round in such a passion, and seemed so bent upon mischief, that both he and all the rest unanimously cried out to me, ‘Give your orders, and we will all second you in whatever you command; we will assist you as long as we have breath in our bodies.’ These kind and affectionate words they uttered, as I firmly believe, in a persuasion that I was upon the point of expiring. I went directly to examine the furnace, and saw all the metal in it concreted. I thereupon ordered two of the helpers to step over the way to a butcher for a load of young oak which had been above a year drying, which had been already offered to me.
“Upon his bringing me the first bundles of it, I began to fill the grate. This sort of oak makes a brisker fire than any other wood whatever; but the wood of elder-trees and pine-trees is used in casting artillery, because it makes a mild and gentle fire. As soon as the concreted metal felt the power of this violent fire, it began to brighten and glitter. In another quarter I made them hurry the tubes with all possible expedition, and sent some of them to the roof of the house to take care of the fire, which through the great violence of the wind had acquired new force; and towards the garden I had caused some tables with pieces of tapestry and old clothes to be placed in order to shelter me from the rain. As soon as I had applied the proper remedy to each evil, I with a loud voice cried out to my men to bestir themselves and lend a helping hand; so that when they saw that the concreted metal began to melt again, the whole body obeyed me with such zeal and alacrity that every man did the work of three. Then I caused a mass of pewter weighing about sixty pounds to be thrown upon the metal in the furnace, which, with the other helps, as the brisk wood-fire, and stirring it sometimes with iron and sometimes with long poles, soon became completely dissolved. Finding that, contrary to the opinion of my ignorant assistants, I had effected what seemed as difficult to raise as the dead, I recovered my vigor to such a degree that I no longer perceived whether I had any fever, nor had I the least apprehension of death.
“Suddenly a loud noise was heard, and a glittering of fire flashed before our eyes, as if it had been the darting of a thunderbolt. Upon the appearance of this extraordinary phenomenon terror seized upon all present, and none more than myself. This tremendous noise being over, we began to stare at each other, and perceived that the cover of the furnace had burst and flown off, so that the bronze began to run.
“I immediately caused the mouths of my mould to be opened; but, finding that the metal did not run with its usual velocity, and apprehending that the cause of it was that the fusibility of the metal was injured by the violence of the fire, I ordered all my dishes and porringers, which were in number about two hundred, to be placed one by one before my tubes, and part of them to be thrown into the furnace; upon which all present perceived that my mould was filling: they now with joy and alacrity assisted and obeyed me. I, for my part, was sometimes in one place, sometimes in another, giving my directions and assisting my men, before whom I offered up this prayer: ‘O God, I address myself to thee. I acknowledge in gratitude this mercy, that my mould has been filled. I fall prostrate before thee, and with my whole heart return thanks to thy divine majesty.’
“My prayer being over, I took a plate of meat which stood upon a little bench, and ate with a great appetite. I then drank with all my journeymen and assistants, and went joyful and in good health to bed; for there were still two hours of night, and I rested as well as if I had been troubled with no disorder.
“My good housekeeper, without my having given any orders, had provided a good capon for my dinner. When I arose, which was not till about noon, she accosted me in high spirits, and said merrily, ‘Is this the man that thought himself dying? It is my firm belief that the cuffs and kicks you gave us last night when you were quite frantic and possessed, frightened away your fever, which, apprehending you should fall upon it in the same manner, took to flight.’ So my whole poor family, having got over such panics and hardships, without delay procured earthen vessels to supply the place of the pewter dishes and porringers, and we all dined together very cheerfully; indeed, I do not remember having ever in my life eaten a meal with greater satisfaction or a better appetite. After dinner, all those who had assisted me in my work came and congratulated me upon what had happened, returned thanks to the Divine Being for having interposed so mercifully in our behalf, and declared that they had in theory and practice learnt such things as were judged impossible by other masters. I thereupon thought it allowable to boast a little of my knowledge and skill in this fine art, and, pulling out my purse, satisfied all my workmen for their labor.
“Having left my work to cool during two days after it was cast, I began gradually to uncover it. I first of all found the Medusa’s head, which had come out admirably by the assistance of the vents. I proceeded to uncover the rest, and found that the other head—I mean that of Perseus—was likewise come out perfectly well. I went on uncovering it with great success, and found every part turn out to admiration, till I reached the foot of the right leg, which supports the figure. I found that not only the toes were wanting, but part of the foot itself, so that there was almost one half deficient. This occasioned me some new trouble; but I was not displeased at it, as I had expected this very thing.
“It pleased God that as soon as ever my work, although still unfinished, was seen by the populace, they set up so loud a shout of applause, that I began to be somewhat comforted for the mortifications I had undergone; and there were sonnets in my praise every day upon the gate, the language of which was extremely elegant and poetical. The very day on which I exhibited my work, there were above twenty sonnets set up, containing the most hyperbolical praises of it. Even after I had covered it again, every day a number of verses, with Latin odes and Greek poems, were published on the occasion,—for it was then vacation at the University of Pisa, and all the learned men and scholars belonging to that place vied with each other in writing encomiums on my performance. But what gave me the highest satisfaction was that even those of the profession—I mean statuaries and painters—emulated each other in commending me. In fact, I was so highly praised, and in so elegant a style, that it afforded me some alleviation for my past mortification and troubles, and I made all the haste I could to put the last hand to my statue.
“At last, as it pleased the Almighty, I completely finished my work, and on a Thursday morning exhibited it fully. Just before the break of day so great a crowd gathered about it, that it is almost impossible for me to give the reader an idea of their number; and they all seemed to vie with each other who should praise it most. The duke stood at a lower window of the palace, just over the gate, and, being half concealed within side, heard all that was said concerning the work. After he had listened several hours, he left the window highly pleased, and sent me this message: ‘Go to Benvenuto, and tell him from me that he has given me higher satisfaction than I ever expected. Let him know at the same time that I shall reward him in such a manner as will excite his surprise.’”
The manuscript of Benvenuto’s Life is not carried much farther. The narrative breaks off abruptly in 1562, when Cellini was in the sixty-second year of his age. He does not appear from this time to have been engaged in any work of much importance. After the execution of his grand achievement of the Perseus, the narrative of his life seems to have been the most successful of all the labors of his declining years.
On the 15th day of February, 1570, this extraordinary man died. He was buried, by his own direction, with great funeral pomp. A monk who had been charged to compose the funeral sermon, in praise both of his life and works and of his excellent moral qualities, mounted the pulpit and delivered a discourse which was highly approved by the whole academy and by the people. They struggled to enter the chapter, as well to see the body of Benvenuto as to hear the commendation of his good qualities.