I TOOK the money and the model home, and was in the utmost impatience to
begin my work. After I had laboured diligently for eight days, the Pope
sent word by one of his chamberlains, a very great gentleman of Bologna,
that I was to come to him and bring what I had got in hand. On the way,
the chamberlain, who was the most gentle-mannered person in the Roman
court, told me that the Pope not only wanted to see what I was doing,
but also intended to intrust me with another task of the highest
consequence, which was, in fact, to furnish dies for the money of the
Mint; and bade me arm myself beforehand with the answer I should give;
in short, he wished me to be prepared, and therefore he had spoken. When
we came into the presence, I lost no time in exhibiting the golden
plate, upon which I had as yet carved nothing but my figure of God the
Father; but this, though only in the rough, displayed a grander style
than that of the waxen model. The Pope regarded it with stupefaction,
and exclaimed: “From this moment forward I will believe everything you
say.” Then loading me with marks of favour, he added: “It is my
intention to give you another commission, which, if you feel competent
to execute it, I shall have no less at heart than this, or more.” He
proceeded to tell me that he wished to make dies for the coinage of his
realm, and asked me if I had ever tried my hand at such things, and if I
had the courage to attempt them. I answered that of courage for the task
I had no lack, and that I had seen how dies were made, but that I had
not ever made any. There was in the presence a certain Messer Tommaso,
of Prato, his Holiness’ Datary; [1] and this man, being a friend of my
enemies, put in: “Most blessed Father, the favours you are showering
upon this young man (and he by nature so extremely overbold) are enough
to make him promise you a new world. You have already given him one
great task, and now, by adding a greater, you are like to make them
clash together.” The Pope, in a rage, turned round on him, and told him
to mind his own business. Then he commanded me to make the model for a
broad doubloon of gold, upon which he wanted a naked Christ with his
hands tied, and the inscription 'Ecce Homo;' the reverse was to have a
Pope and Emperor in the act together of propping up a cross which seemed
to fall, and this legend: 'Unus spiritus et una fides erat in eis.'
After the Pope had ordered this handsome coin, Bandinello the sculptor
came up; he had not yet been made a knight; and, with his wonted
presumption muffled up in ignorance, said: “For these goldsmiths one
must make drawings for such fine things as that.” I turned round upon
him in a moment, and cried out that I did not want his drawings for my
art, but that I hoped before very long to give his art some trouble by
my drawings. The Pope expressed high satisfaction at these words, and
turning to me said: “Go then, my Benvenuto, and devote yourself with
spirit to my service, and do not lend an ear to the chattering of these
silly fellows.”
So I went off, and very quickly made two dies of steel; then I stamped a
coin in gold, and one Sunday after dinner took the coin and the dies to
the Pope, who, when he saw the piece, was astonished and greatly
gratified, not only because my work pleased him excessively, but also
because of the rapidity with which I had performed it. For the further
satisfaction and amazement of his holiness, I had brought with me all
the old coins which in former times had been made by those able men who
served Popes Giulio and Leo; and when I noticed that mine pleased him
far better, I drew forth from my bosom a patient, [2] in which I prayed
for the post of stamp-master [3] in the Mint. This place was worth six
golden crowns a month, in addition to the dies, which were paid at the
rate of a ducat for three by the Master of the Mint. The Pope took my
patent and handed it to the Datary, telling him to lose no time in
dispatching the business. The Datary began to put it in his pocket,
saying: “Most blessed Father, your Holiness ought not to go so fast;
these are matters which deserve some reflection.” To this the Pope
replied; “I have heard what you have got to say; give me here that
patent.” He took it, and signed it at once with his own hand; then,
giving it back, added: “Now, you have no answer left; see that you
dispatch it at once, for this is my pleasure; and Benvenuto’s shoes are
worth more than the eyes of all those other blockheads.” So, having
thanked his Holiness, I went back, rejoicing above measure, to my work.
Note 1. His full name was Tommaso Cortese. The Papal Datario was the
chief secretary of the office for requests, petitions and patents. His
title was derived from its being his duty to affix the 'Datum Romæ' to
documents. The fees of this office, which was also called Datario,
brought in a large revenue to the Papacy.
Note 2. 'Moto propio.' Cellini confuses his petition with the
instrument, which he had probably drawn up ready for signature.
Note 3. 'Maestro delle stampe della zecca, i. e.,' the artist who made
the dies.