IT happened that Cardinal Salviati, who, as I have related, entertained
an old hostility against me, had been appointed Legate to Parma. In that
city a certain Milanese goldsmith, named Tobbia, was taken up for false
coining, and condemned to the gallows and the stake. Representations in
his favour, as being a man of great ability, were made to the Cardinal,
who suspended the execution of the sentence, and wrote to the Pope,
saying the best goldsmith in the world had come into his hands,
sentenced to death for coining false money, but that he was a good
simple fellow, who could plead in his excuse that he had taken counsel
with his confessor, and had received, as he said, from him permission to
do this. Thereto he added: “If you send for this great artist to Rome,
your Holiness will bring down the overweening arrogance of your
favourite Benvenuto, and I am quite certain that Tobbia’s work will
please you far more than his.” The Pope accordingly sent for him at
once; and when the man arrived, he made us both appear before him, and
commissioned each of us to furnish a design for mounting an unicorn’s
horn, the finest which had ever been seen, and which had been sold for
17,000 ducats of the Camera. The Pope meant to give it to King Francis;
but first he wished it richly set in gold, and ordered us to make
sketches for this purpose. When they were finished, we took them to the
Pope. That of Tobbia was in the form of a candlestick, the horn being
stuck in it like a candle, and at the base of the piece he had
introduced four little unicorns’ heads of a very poor design. When I saw
the thing, I could not refrain from laughing gently in my sleeve. The
Pope noticed this, and cried: “Here, show me your sketch!” It was a
single unicorn’s head, proportioned in size to the horn. I had designed
the finest head imaginable; for I took it partly from the horse and
partly from the stag, enriching it with fantastic mane and other
ornaments. Accordingly, no sooner was it seen, than every one decided in
my favour. There were, however, present at the competition certain
Milanese gentlemen of the first consequence, who said: “Most blessed
Father, your Holiness is sending this magnificent present into France;
please to reflect that the French are people of no culture, and will not
understand the excellence of Benvenuto’s work; pyxes like this one of
Tobbia’s will suit their taste well, and these too can be finished
quicker. [1] Benvenuto will devote himself to completing your chalice,
and you will get two pieces done in the same time; moreover, this poor
man, whom you have brought to Rome, will have the chance to be
employed.” The Pope, who was anxious to obtain his chalice, very
willingly adopted the advice of the Milanese gentlefolk.
Next day, therefore, he commissioned Tobbia to mount the unicorn’s horn,
and sent his Master of the Wardrobe to bid me finish the chalice. [2] I
replied that I desired nothing in the world more than to complete the
beautiful work I had begun: and if the material had been anything but
gold, I could very easily have done so myself; but it being gold, his
Holiness must give me some of the metal if he wanted me to get through
with my work. To this the vulgar courtier answered: “Zounds! don’t ask
the Pope for gold, unless you mean to drive him into such a fury as will
ruin you.” I said: “Oh, my good lord, will your lordship please to tell
me how one can make bread without flour? Even so without gold this piece
of mine cannot be finished.” The Master of the Wardrobe, having an
inkling that I had made a fool of him, told me he should report all I
had spoken to his Holiness; and this he did. The Pope flew into a
bestial passion, and swore he would wait to see if I was so mad as not
to finish it. More than two months passed thus; and though I had
declared I would not give a stroke to the chalice, I did not do so, but
always went on working with the greatest interest. When he perceived I
was not going to bring it, he began to display real displeasure, and
protested he would punish me in one way or another.
A jeweller from Milan in the Papal service happened to be present when
these words were spoken. He was called Pompeo, and was closely related
to Messer Trajano, the most favoured servant of Pope Clement. The two
men came, upon a common understanding, to him and said: “If your
Holiness were to deprive Benvenuto of the Mint, perhaps he would take it
into his head to complete the chalice.” To this the Pope answered” “No;
two evil things would happen: first, I should be ill served in the Mint,
which concerns me greatly; and secondly, I should certainly not get the
chalice.” The two Milanese, observing the Pope indisposed towards me, at
last so far prevailed that he deprived me of the Mint, and gave it to a
young Perugian, commonly known as Fagiuolo. [3] Pompeo came to inform me
that his Holiness had taken my place in the Mint away, and that if I did
not finish the chalice, he would deprive me of other things besides. I
retorted: “Tell his Holiness that he has deprived himself and not me of
the Mint, and that he will be doing the same with regard to those other
things of which he speaks; and that if he wants to confer the post on me
again, nothing will induce me to accept it.” The graceless and unlucky
fellow went off like an arrow to find the Pope and report this
conversation; he added also something of his own invention. Eight days
later, the Pope sent the same man to tell me that he did not mean me to
finish the chalice, and wanted to have it back precisely at the point to
which I had already brought it. I told Pompeo: “This thing is not like
the Mint, which it was in his power to take away; but five hundred
crowns which I received belong to his Holiness, and I am ready to return
them; the piece itself is mine, and with it I shall do what I think
best.” Pompeo ran off to report my speech, together with some biting
words which in my righteous anger I had let fly at himself.
Note 1. The word I have translated 'pyxes' is 'ciborii,' vessels for
holding the Eucharist.
Note 2. The Master of the Wardrobe was at that time Giovanni Aleotti. I
need hardly remind my readers that 'Guardaroba' or wardrobe was the
apartment in a palace where arms, plate, furniture, and clothes were
stored. We shall find, when we come to Cellini’s service under Duke
Cosimo, that princes spent much of their time in this place.
Note 3. Vasari mentions a Girolamo Fagiuoli, who flourished at this
period but calls him a Bolognese.