IT happened that just at this period an action was brought against me in
Paris by the second lodger I had ousted from my castle, who pretended
that on that occasion I had stolen a large quantity of his effects. This
lawsuit tormented me beyond measure, and took up so much of my time that
I often thought of decamping in despair from the country. Now the French
are in the habit of making much capital out of any action they commence
against a foreigner, or against such persons as they notice to be
indolent in litigation. No sooner do they observe that they are getting
some advantage in the suit, than they find the means to sell it; some
have even been known to give a lawsuit in dowry with their daughters to
men who make a business out of such transactions. They have another ugly
custom, which is that the Normans, nearly all of them, traffic in false
evidence; so that the men who buy up lawsuits, engage at once the
services of four or six of these false witnesses, according to their
need; their adversary, if he neglect to produce as many on the other
side, being perhaps unacquainted with the custom, is certain to have the
verdict given against him.
All this happened in my case, and thinking it a most disgraceful breach
of justice, I made my appearance in the great hall of Paris, to defend
my right. There I saw a judge, lieutenant for the King in civil causes,
enthroned upon a high tribunal. He was tall, stout, and fat, and of an
extremely severe countenance. All round him on each side stood a crowd
of solicitors and advocates, ranged upon the right hand and the left.
Others were coming, one by one, to explain their several causes to the
judge. From time to time, too, I noticed that the attorneys at the side
of the tribunal talked all at once: and much admiration was roused in me
by that extraordinary man, the very image of Pluto, who listened with
marked attention first to one and then to the other, answering each with
learning and sagacity. I have always delighted in watching and
experiencing every kind of skill; so I would not have lost this
spectacle for much. It happened that the hall being very large, and
filled with a multitude of folk, they were strict in excluding every one
who had no business there, and kept the door shut with a guard to hold
it. Sometimes the guardian, in his effort to prevent the entrance of
some improper person, interrupted the judge by the great noise he made,
and the judge in anger turned to chide him. This happened frequently, so
that my attention was directed to the fact. On one occasion, when two
gentlemen were pushing their way in as spectators, and the porter was
opposing them with violence, the judge raised his voice, and spoke the
following words precisely as I heard them: “Keep peace, Satan, begone,
and hold your tongue.” These words in the French tongue sound as
follows: 'Phe phe, Satan, Phe, Phe, alé, phe!' [1] Now I had learned the
French tongue well; and on hearing this sentence, the meaning of that
phrase used by Dante came into my memory, when he and his master Virgil
entered the doors of Hell. Dante and the painter Giotto were together in
France, and particularly in the city of Paris, where, owing to the
circumstances I have just described, the hall of justice may be truly
called a hell. Dante then, who also understood French well, made use of
the phrase in question, and it has struck me as singular that this
interpretation has never yet been put upon the passage; indeed, it
confirms my opinion that the commentators make him say things which
never came into his head.
Note 1. 'Paix, paix, Satan, allez, paix.' The line in Dante to which
Cellini alludes is the first of the seventh canto of the 'Inferno.' His
suggestion is both curious and ingenious; but we have no reason to think
that French judges used the same imprecations, when interrupted, in the
thirteenth as they did in the sixteenth century, or that what Cellini
heard on this occasion was more than an accidental similarity of sounds,
striking his quick ear and awakening his lively memory.