SINCE I am writing my life, I must from time to time diverge from my
profession in order to describe with brevity, if not in detail, some
incidents which have no bearing on my career as artist. On the morning
of Saint John’s Day I happened to be dining with several men of our
nation, painters, sculptors, goldsmiths, amongst the most notable of
whom was Rosso and Gainfrancesco, the pupil of Raffaello. [1] I had
invited them without restraint or ceremony to the place of our meeting,
and they were all laughing and joking, as is natural when a crowd of men
come together to make merry on so great a festival. It chanced that a
light-brained swaggering young fellow passed by; he was a soldier of
Rienzo da Ceri, who, when he heard the noise that we were making, gave
vent to a string of opprobrious sarcasms upon the folk of Florence. [2]
I, who was the host of those great artists and men of worth, taking the
insult to myself, slipped out quietly without being observed, and went
up to him. I ought to say that he had a punk of his there, and was going
on with his stupid ribaldries to amuse her. When I met him, I asked if
he was the rash fellow who was speaking evil of the Florentines. He
answered at once: “I am that man.” On this I raised my hand, struck him
in the face, and said: “And I am 'this' man.” Then we each of us drew
our swords with spirit; but the fray had hardly begun when a crowd of
persons intervened, who rather took my part than not, hearing and seeing
that I was in the right.
On the following day a challenge to fight with him was brought me, which
I accepted very gladly, saying that I expected to complete this job far
quicker than those of the other art I practised. So I went at once to
confer with a fine old man called Bevilacqua, who was reputed to have
been the first sword of Italy, because he had fought more than twenty
serious duels and had always come off with honour. This excellent man
was a great friend of mine; he knew me as an artist and had also been
concerned as intermediary in certain ugly quarrels between me and
others. Accordingly, when he had learned my business, he answered with a
smile: “My Benvenuto, if you had an affair with Mars, I am sure you
would come out with honour, because through all the years that I have
known you, I have never seen you wrongfully take up a quarrel.” So he
consented to be my second, and we repaired with sword in hand to the
appointed place, but no blood was shed, for my opponent made the matter
up, and I came with much credit out of the affair. [3] I will not add
further particulars; for though they would be very interesting in their
own way, I wish to keep both space and words for my art, which has been
my chief inducement to write as I am doing, and about which I shall have
only too much to say.
The spirit of honourable rivalry impelled me to attempt some other
masterpiece, which should equal, or even surpass, the productions of
that able craftsman, Lucagnolo, whom I have mentioned. Still I did not
on this account neglect my own fine art of jewellery; and so both the
one and the other wrought me much profit and more credit, and in both of
them I continued to produce things of marked originality. There was at
that time in Rome a very able artist of Perugia named Lautizio, who
worked only in one department, where he was sole and unrivalled
throughout the world. [4] You must know that at Rome every cardinal has
a seal, upon which his title is engraved, and these seals are made just
as large as a child’s hand of about twelve years of age; and, as I have
already said, the cardinal’s title is engraved upon the seal together
with a great many ornamental figures. A well-made article of the kind
fetches a hundred, or more than a hundred crowns. This excellent
workman, like Lucagnolo, roused in me some honest rivalry, although the
art he practised is far remote from the other branches of gold-smithery,
and consequently Lautizio was not skilled in making anything but seals.
I gave my mind to acquiring his craft also, although I found it very
difficult; and, unrepelled by the trouble which it gave me, I went on
zealously upon the path of profit and improvement.
There was in Rome another most excellent craftsman of ability, who was a
Milanese named Messer Caradosso. [5] He dealt in nothing but little
chiselled medals, made of plates of metal, and such-like things. I have
seen of his some paxes in half relief, and some Christs a palm in length
wrought of the thinnest golden plates, so exquisitely done that I
esteemed him the greatest master in that kind I had ever seen, and
envied him more than all the rest together. There were also other
masters who worked at medals carved in steel, which may be called the
models and true guides for those who aim at striking coins in the most
perfect style. All these divers arts I set myself with unflagging
industry to learn.
I must not omit the exquisite art of enamelling, in which I have never
known any one excel save a Florentine, our countryman, called Amerigo.
[6] I did not know him, but was well acquainted with his incomparable
masterpieces. Nothing in any part of the world or by craftsman that I
have seen, approached the divine beauty of their workmanship. To this
branch too I devoted myself with all my strength, although it is
extremely difficult, chiefly because of the fire, which, after long time
and trouble spent in other processes, has to be applied at last, and not
unfrequently brings the whole to ruin. In spite of its great
difficulties, it gave me so much pleasure that I looked upon them as
recreation; and this came from the special gift which the God of nature
bestowed on me, that is to say, a temperament so happy and of such
excellent parts that I was freely able to accomplish whatever it pleased
me to take in hand. The various departments of art which I have
described are very different one from the other, so that a man who
excels in one of them, if he undertakes the others, hardly ever achieves
the same success; whereas I strove with all my power to become equally
versed in all of them: and in the proper place I shall demonstrate that
I attained my object.
Note 1. St. John’s Day was the great Florentine Festival, on which all
the Guilds went in procession with pageants through the city. Of the
Florentine painter, II Rosso, or Maitre Roux, this is the first mention
by Cellini. He went to France in 1534, and died an obscure death there
in 1541.
Note 2. This Rienzo, Renzo, or Lorenzo da Ceri, was a captain of
adventurers or Condottiere, who hired his mercenary forces to
paymasters. He defended Crema for the Venetians in 1514, and conquered
Urbino for the Pope in 1515. Afterwards he fought for the French in the
Italian wars. We shall hear more of him again during the sack of Rome.
Note 3. The Italian, 'restando dal mio avversario,' seems to mean that
Cellini’s opponent proposed an accommodation, apologized, or stayed the
duel at a certain point.
Note 4. See Cellini’s Treatise 'Oreficeria,' cap. vi., for more
particulars about this artist.
Note 5. His real name was Ambrogio Foppa. The nickname Caradosso is said
to have stuck to him in consequence of a Spaniard calling him
Bear’s-face in his own tongue. He struck Leo X’s coins; and we possess
some excellent medallion portraits by his hand.