AT that time Bologna, the painter, suggested to the King that it would
be well if his Majesty sent him to Rome, with letters of recommendation,
to the end that he might cast the foremost masterpieces of antiquity,
namely, the Laocoon, the Cleopatra, the Venus, the Commodus, the
Zingara, and the Apollo. [1] These, of a truth, are by far the finest
things in Rome. He told the King that when his Majesty had once set eyes
upon those marvellous works, he would then, and not till then, be able
to criticise the arts of design, since everything which he had seen by
us moderns was far removed from the perfection of the ancients. The King
accepted his proposal, and gave him the introductions he required.
Accordingly that beast went off, and took his bad luck with him. Not
having the force and courage to contend with his own hands against me,
he adopted the truly Lombard device of depreciating my performances by
becoming a copyist of antiques. In its own proper place I shall relate
how, though he had these statues excellently cast, he obtained a result
quite contrary to his imagination.
I had now done for ever with that disreputable Caterina, and the
unfortunate young man, her husband, had decamped from Paris. Wanting
then to finish off my Fontainebleau, which was already cast in bronze,
as well as to execute the two Victories which were going to fill the
angles above the lunette of the door, I engaged a poor girl of the age
of about fifteen. She was beautifully made and of a brunette complexion.
Being somewhat savage in her ways and spare of speech, quick in
movement, with a look of sullenness about her eyes, I nicknamed her
Scorzone; [2] her real name was Jeanne. With her for model, I gave
perfect finish to the bronze Fontainebleau, and also to the two
Victories.
Now this girl was a clean maid, and I got her with child. She gave birth
to a daughter on the 7th of June, at thirteen hours of the day, in 1544,
when I had exactly reached the age of forty-four. I named the infant
Costanza; and Mr. Guido Guidi, the King’s physician, and my most
intimate friend, as I have previously related, held her at the font. He
was the only godfather; for it is customary in France to have but one
godfather and two godmothers. One of the latter was Madame Maddalena,
wife to M. Luigi Alamanni, a gentleman of Florence and an accomplished
poet. The other was the wife of M. Ricciardo del Bene, our Florentine
burgher, and a great merchant in Paris; she was herself a French lady of
distinguished family. This was the first child I ever had, so far as I
remember. I settled money enough upon the girl for dowry to satisfy an
aunt of hers, under whose tutelage I placed her, and from that time
forwards I had nothing more to do with her.
Note 1. The Cleopatra is that recumbent statue of a sleeping Ariadne or
Bacchante now in the Vatican. The Venus (neither the Medicean nor the
Capitoline) represents the goddess issuing from the bath; it is now in
the Museo Pio Clementino of the Vatican. The Commodus is a statue of
Hercules, with the lion’s skin and an infant in his arms, also in the
Vatican. The Zingara may be a statue of Diana forming part of the
Borghese collection. The Apollo is the famous Belvedere Apollo of the
Vatican.
Note 2. That is, in Italian, “the rough rind,” a name given to rustics.
'Scorzone' is also the name for a little black venomous serpent.