BANDINELLO had received information of the crucifix which, as I have
said above, I was now engaged upon. Accordingly he laid his hands at
once upon a block of marble, and produced the Pietà which may be seen in
the church of the Annunziata. Now I had offered my crucifix to S. Maria
Novella, and had already fixed up the iron clamps whereby I meant to
fasten it against the wall. I only asked for permission to construct a
little sarcophagus upon the ground beneath the feet of Christ, into
which I might creep when I was dead. The friars told me that they could
not grant this without the consent of their building committee. [1] I
replied: “Good brethren, why did not you consult your committee before
you allowed me to place my crucifix? Without their leave you suffered me
to fix my clamps and other necessary fittings.”
On this account I refused to give those fruits of my enormous labours to
the church of S. Maria Novella, even though the overseers of the fabric
came and begged me for the crucifix. I turned at once to the church of
the Annunziata, and when I explained the terms on which I had sought to
make a present of it to S. Maria Novella, those virtuous friars of the
Nunziata unanimously told me to place it in their church, and let me
make my grave according to my will and pleasure. When Bandinello became
aware of this, he set to work with great diligence at the completion of
his Pietà, and prayed the Duchess to get for him the chapel of the Pazzi
for his monument. This he obtained with some difficulty; and on
receiving the permission, he erected his Pietà with great haste. It was
not altogether completed when he died.
The Duchess then said that, even as she had protected him in life, so
would she protect him in the grave, and that albeit he was dead, I need
never try to get that block of marble. Apropos of which, the broken
Bernardone, meeting me one day in the country, said that the Duchess had
assigned the marble. I replied: “Unhappy piece of stone! In the hands of
Bandinello it would certainly have come to grief; but in those of
Ammanato its fate is a hundred times worse.” Now I had received orders
from the Duke to make a clay model, of the same size as the marble would
allow; he also provided me with wood and clay, set up a sort of screen
in the Loggia where my Perseus stands, and paid me one workman. I went
about my business with all diligence, and constructed the wooden
framework according to my excellent system. Then I brought the model
successfully to a conclusion, without caring whether I should have to
execute it in marble, since I knew the Duchess was resolved I should not
get the commission. Consequently I paid no heed to that. Only I felt
very glad to undergo this labour, hoping to make the Duchess, who was
after all a person of intelligence, as indeed I had the means of
observing at a later period, repent of having done so great a wrong both
to the marble and herself. Giovanni the Fleming also made a model in the
cloister of S. Croce; Vinzenzio Danti of Perugia another in the house of
Messer Ottaviano de’ Medici; the son of Moschino began a third at Pisa,
and Bartolommeo Ammanato a fourth in the Loggia, which we divided
between us. 2
When I had blocked the whole of mine out well, and wanted to begin upon
the details of the head, which I had already just sketched out in
outline, the Duke came down from the palace, and Giorgetto, the painter,
[3] took him into Ammanato’s workshed. This man had been engaged there
with his own hands several days, in company with Ammanato and all his
workpeople. While, then, the Duke was inspecting Ammanato’s model, I
received intelligence that he seemed but little pleased with it. In
spite of Giorgetto’s trying to dose him with his fluent nonsense, the
Duke shook his head, and turning to Messer Gianstefano, [4] exclaimed:
“Go and ask Benvenuto if his colossal statue is far enough forward for
him to gratify us with a glance at it.” Messer Gianstefano discharged
this embassy with great tact, and in the most courteous terms. He added
that if I did not think my work quite ready to be seen yet, I might say
so frankly, since the Duke knew well that I had enjoyed but little
assistance for so large an undertaking. I replied that I entreated him
to do me the favour of coming; for though my model was not far advanced,
yet the intelligence of his Excellency would enable him to comprehend
perfectly how it was likely to look when finished. This kindly gentleman
took back my message to the Duke, who came with pleasure. No sooner had
he entered the enclosure and cast his eyes upon my work, than he gave
signs of being greatly satisfied. Then he walked all round it, stopping
at each of the four points of view, exactly as the ripest expert would
have done. Afterwards he showed by nods and gestures of approval that it
pleased him; but he said no more than this: “Benvenuto, you have only to
give a little surface to your statue.” Then he turned to his attendants,
praising my performance, and saying: “The small model which I saw in his
house pleased me greatly, but this has far exceeded it in merit.”