DURING the time when Florence was besieged, Federigo Ginori, for whom I
made that medal of Atlas, died of consumption, and the medal came into
the hands of Messer Luigi Alamanni, who, after a little while, took it
to present in person to Francis, king of France, accompanied by some of
his own finest compositions. The King was exceedingly delighted with the
gift; whereupon Messer Luigi told his Majesty so much about my personal
qualities, as well as my art, and spoke so favourably, that the King
expressed a wish to know me.
Meanwhile I pushed my model for the button forward with all the
diligence I could, constructing it exactly of the size which the jewel
itself was meant to have. In the trade of the goldsmiths it roused
considerable jealousy among those who thought that they were capable of
matching it. A certain Micheletto had just come to Rome; [1] he was very
clever at engraving cornelians, and was, moreover, a most intelligent
jeweller, an old man and of great celebrity. He had been employed upon
the Pope’s tiaras; and while I was working at my model, he wondered much
that I had not applied to him, being as he was a man of intelligence and
of large credit with the Pope. At last, when he saw that I was not
coming to him, he came to me, and asked me what I was about. “What the
Pope has ordered me,” I answered. Then he said: “The Pope has
commissioned me to superintend everything which is being made for his
Holiness.” I only replied that I would ask the Pope, and then should
know what answer I ought to give him. He told me that I should repent,
and departing in anger, had an interview with all the masters of the
art; they deliberated on the matter, and charged Michele with the
conduct of the whole affair. As was to be expected from a person of his
talents, he ordered more than thirty drawings to be made, all differing
in their details, for the piece the Pope had commissioned.
Having already access to his Holiness’ ear, he took into his counsel
another jeweller, named Pompeo, a Milanese, who was in favour with the
Pope, and related to Messer Traiano, the first chamberlain of the court;
[2] these two together, then, began to insinuate that they had seen my
model, and did not think me up to a work of such extraordinary import.
The Pope replied that he would also have to see it, and that if he then
found me unfit for the purpose, he should look around for one who was
fit. Both of them put in that they had several excellent designs ready;
to which the Pope made answer, that he was very pleased to hear it, but
that he did not care to look at them till I had completed my model;
afterwards, he would take them all into consideration at the same time.
After a few days I finished my model, and took it to the Pope one
morning, when Messer Traiano made me wait till he had sent for
Micheletto and Pompeo, bidding them make haste and bring their drawings.
On their arrival we were introduced, and Micheletto and Pompeo
immediately unrolled their papers, which the Pope inspected. The
draughtsmen who had been employed were not in the jeweller’s trade, and
therefore, knew nothing about giving their right place to precious
stones; and the jewellers, on their side, had not shown them how; for I
ought to say that a jeweller, when he has to work with figures, must of
necessity understand design, else he cannot produce anything worth
looking at: and so it turned out that all of them had stuck that famous
diamond in the middle of the breast of God the Father. The Pope, who was
an excellent connoisseur, observing this mistake, approved of none of
them; and when he had looked at about ten, he flung the rest down, and
said to me, who was standing at a distance: “Now show me your model,
Benvenuto, so that I may see if you have made the same mistake as those
fellows.” I came forward, and opened a little round box; whereupon one
would have thought that a light from heaven had struck the Pope’s eyes.
He cried aloud: “If you had been in my own body, you could not have done
it better, as this proves. Those men there have found the right way to
bring shame upon themselves!” A crowd of great lords pressing round, the
Pope pointed out the difference between my model and the drawings. When
he had sufficiently commended it, the others standing terrified and
stupid before him, he turned to me and said: “I am only afraid of one
thing, and that is of the utmost consequence. Friend Benvenuto, wax is
easy to work in; the real difficulty is to execute this in gold.” To
those words I answered without moment’s hesitation: “Most blessed
Father, if I do not work it ten times better than the model, let it be
agreed beforehand that you pay me nothing.” When they heard this, the
noblemen made a great stir, crying out that I was promising too much.
Among them was an eminent philosopher, who spoke out in my favour: “From
the fine physiognomy and bodily symmetry which I observed in this young
man, I predict that he will accomplish what he says, and think that he
will even go beyond it.” The Pope put in: “And this is my opinion also.”
Then he called his chamberlain, Messer Traiano, and bade him bring five
hundred golden ducats of the Camera.
While we were waiting for the money, the Pope turned once more to gaze
at leisure on the dexterous device I had employed for combining the
diamond with the figure of God the Father. I had put the diamond exactly
in the center of the piece; and above it God the Father was shown
seated, leaning nobly in a sideways attitude, [3] which made a perfect
composition, and did not interfere with the stone’s effect. Lifting his
right hand, he was in the act of giving the benediction. Below the
diamond I had place three children, who, with their arms upraised, were
supporting the jewel. One of them, in the middle, was in full relief,
the other two in half-relief. All around I set a crowd of cherubs, in
divers attitudes, adapted to the other gems. A mantle undulated to the
wind around the figure of the Father, from the folds of which cherubs
peeped out; and there were other ornaments besides which made a very
beautiful effect. The work was executed in white stucco on a black
stone. When the money came, the Pope gave it to me with his own hand,
and begged me in the most winning terms to let him have it finished in
his own days, adding that this should be to my advantage.
Note 1. Vasari calls this eminent engraver of gems Michelino.
Note 2. Messer Traiano Alicorno.
Note 3. 'In un certo bel modo svolto.' That means: turned aside, not
fronting the spectator.