I WENT on applying myself with the utmost diligence upon the gold-work
for Pope Clement’s button. He was very eager to have it, and used to
send for me two or three times a week, in order to inspect it; and his
delight in the work always increased. Often would he rebuke and scold
me, as it were, for the great grief in which my brother’s loss had
plunged me; and one day, observing me more downcast and out of trim than
was proper, he cried aloud: “Benvenuto, oh! I did not know that you were
mad. Have you only just learned that there is no remedy against death?
One would think that you were trying to run after him.” When I left the
presence, I continued working at the jewel and the dies [1] for the
Mint; but I also took to watching the arquebusier who shot my brother,
as though he had been a girl I was in love with. The man had formerly
been in the light cavalry, but afterwards had joined the arquebusiers as
one of the Bargello’s corporals; and what increased my rage was that he
had used these boastful words: “If it had not been for me, who killed
that brave young man, the least trifle of delay would have resulted in
his putting us all to flight with great disaster.” When I saw that the
fever caused by always seeing him about was depriving me of sleep and
appetite, and was bringing me by degrees to sorry plight, I overcame my
repugnance to so low and not quite praiseworthy an enterprise, and made
my mind up one evening to rid myself of the torment. The fellow lived in
a house near a place called Torre Sanguigua, next door to the lodging of
one of the most fashionable courtesans in Rome, named Signora Antea. It
had just struck twenty-four, and he was standing at the house-door, with
his sword in hand, having risen from supper. With great address I stole
up to him, holding a large Pistojan dagger, [2] and dealt him a
back-handed stroke, with which I meant to cut his head clean off; but as
he turned round very suddenly, the blow fell upon the point of his left
shoulder and broke the bone. He sprang up, dropped his sword,
half-stunned with the great pain, and took to flight. I followed after,
and in four steps caught him up, when I lifted my dagger above his head,
which he was holding very low, and hit him in the back exactly at the
juncture of the nape-bone and the neck. The poniard entered this point
so deep into the bone, that, though I used all my strength to pull it
out, I was not able. For just at that moment four soldiers with drawn
swords sprang out from Antea’s lodging, and obliged me to set hand to my
own sword to defend my life. Leaving the poniard then, I made off, and
fearing I might be recognised, took refuge in the palace of Duke
Alessandro, which was between Piazza Navona and the Rotunda. [3] On my
arrival, I asked to see the Duke; who told me that, if I was alone, I
need only keep quiet and have no further anxiety, but to go on working
at the jewel which the Pope had set his heart on, and stay eight days
indoors. He gave this advice the more securely, because the soldiers had
now arrived who interrupted the completion of my deed; they held the
dagger in their hand, and were relating how the matter happened, and the
great trouble they had to pull the weapon from the neck and head-bone of
the man, whose name they did not know. Just then Giovan Bandini came up,
and said to them. [4] “That poniard is mine, and I lent it to Benvenuto,
who was bent on revenging his brother.” The soldiers were profuse in
their expressions of regret at having interrupted me, although my
vengeance had been amply satisfied.
More than eight days elapsed, and the Pope did not send for me according
to his custom. Afterwards he summoned me through his chamberlain, the
Bolognese nobleman I have already mentioned, who let me, in his own
modest manner, understand that his Holiness knew all, but was very well
inclined toward me, and that I had only to mind my work and keep quiet.
When we reached the presence, the Pope cast so menacing a glance towards
me, that the mere look of his eyes made me tremble. Afterwards, upon
examining my work his countenance cleared, and he began to praise me
beyond measure, saying that I had done a vast amount in a short time.
Then, looking me straight in the face, he added: “Now that you are
cured, Benvenuto, take heed how you live.” [5] I, who understood his
meaning, promised that I would. Immediately upon this, I opened a very
fine shop in the Banchi, opposite Raffaello, and there I finished the
jewel after the lapse of a few months.
Note 1. 'Ferri.' I have translated this word 'dies;' but it seems to
mean all the coining instruments, 'stampe' or 'conii' being the dies
proper.
Note 2. 'Pugnal pistolese;' it came in time to mean a cutlass.
Note 3. That is, the Pantheon.
Note 4. Bandini bears a distinguished name in Florentine annals. He
served Duke Alessandro in affairs of much importance; but afterwards he
betrayed the interests of his master, Duke Cosimo, in an embassy to
Charles V in 1543. It seems that he had then been playing into the hands
of Filippo Strozzi, for which offence he passed fifteen years in a
dungeon. See Varchi and Segni; also Montazio’s 'Prigionieri del Mastio
di Volterra,' cap. vii.
Note 5. This was the Pope’s hint to Cellini that he was aware of the
murder he had just committed.