NEXT day I presented myself, and, after a few words of conversation, the
Duke addressed me cheerfully; “To-morrow, without fail, I mean to
despatch your business; set your mind at rest, then.” I, who felt sure
that he meant what he said, waited with great impatience for the morrow.
When the longed-for day arrived, I betook me to the palace; and as it
always happens that evil tidings travel faster than good news, Messer
Giacopo Guidi, [1] secretary to his Excellency, called me with his wry
mouth and haughty voice; drawing himself up as stiff as a poker, he
began to speak to this effect: “The Duke says he wants you to tell him
how much you ask for your Perseus.” I remained dumbfounded and
astonished; yet I quickly replied that it was not my custom to put
prices on my work, and that this was not what his Excellency had
promised me two days ago. The man raised his voice, and ordered me
expressly in the Duke’s name, under the penalty of his severe
displeasure, to say how much I wanted. Now I had hoped not only to gain
some handsome reward, trusting to the mighty signs of kindness shown me
by the Duke, but I had still more expected to secure the entire good
graces of his Excellency, seeing I never asked for anything, but only
for his favour. Accordingly, this wholly unexpected way of dealing with
me put me in a fury, and I was especially enraged by the manner which
that venomous toad assumed in discharging his commission. I exclaimed
that if the Duke gave me ten thousand crowns I should not be paid
enough, and that if I had ever thought things would come to this
haggling, I should not have settled in his service. Thereupon the surly
fellow began to abuse me, and I gave it him back again.
Upon the following day, when I paid my respects to the Duke, he beckoned
to me. I approached, and he exclaimed in anger: “Cities and great
palaces are built with ten thousands of ducats.” I rejoined: “Your
Excellency can find multitudes of men who are able to build you cities
and palaces, but you will not, perhaps, find one man in the world who
could make a second Perseus.” Then I took my leave without saying or
doing anything farther. A few days afterwards the Duchess sent for me,
and advised me to put my difference with the Duke into her hands, since
she thought she could conduct the business to my satisfaction. On
hearing these kindly words I replied that I had never asked any other
recompense for my labours than the good graces of the Duke, and that his
most illustrious Excellency had assured me of this; it was not needful
that I should place in their Excellencies’ hands what I had always
frankly left to them from the first days when I undertook their service.
I farther added that if his most illustrious Excellency gave me but a
'crazia,' [2] which is worth five farthings, for my work, I should
consider myself contented, provided only that his Excellency did not
deprive me of his favour. At these words the Duchess smiled a little and
said: “Benvenuto, you would do well to act as I advise you.” Then she
turned her back and left me. I thought it was my best policy to speak
with the humility I have above described; yet it turned out that I had
done the worst for myself, because, albeit she had harboured some angry
feelings toward me, she had in her a certain way of dealing which was
generous.
Note 1. It appears from a letter written by Guidi to Bandinelli that he
hated Cellini, whom he called 'pessimo mostro di natura.' Guidi was made
Bishop of Penna in 1561, and attended the Council of Trent.
Note 2. A small Tuscan coin.