A CELLINI CASKET
INTERLUDE
The trellis that once shut the forest trees
From the fair flowers, all torn and broken is,
Though still the lily's scent is on the breeze,
And the rose clasps the broken images.
WILLIAM MORRIS.
Neglected but not ruinous, its marbles mossy, its once unrivalled garden
invaded by sweet wild-flower banditti which run riot among the gentle
roses, its fountains dry, their cracks and crannies the homes of basking
lizards, its charming loggia trodden only by enthusiasts for whom every
spot touched by the genius of Raphael is a shrine of pilgrimage--the
Villa Madama, though appealing in its desertion, is not a melancholy
solitude.
[Illustration: Detail of Vault in Villa Madama--Stucchi by Giovanni da
Udine]
The imagination is intoxicated as by some heady wine as one gazes
outward upon the dazzling panorama which originally determined the site
of the loggia; and when, fatigued by the flashing sunlight, our eyes
turn to the interior they are soothed by the subtler beauties of the
half-effaced frescoes, the floral arabesques which Giovanni da Udine
lavished upon the spandrils, the pouting _putti_ in Giulio Romano's
frieze of cherub faces, carrying out a scheme of decoration which could
have been designed by no other than Raphael. We are certain as we
recognise in a more delicate line, or exquisite touch recalling the
arabesques of the Vatican loggia, that just here the great impresario
must have caught palette and brushes from the hand of his pupil with,
"_Me perdone Giovanino mio_, let me frolic a while with these fairy
creatures and show them to you as I saw them in my childhood dancing in
the swaying vines that garlanded the pergolas of Urbino." And so they
revel here, myths of the childhood of the race, monstrous creatures,
half beast, half human; centaurs, fauns, tritons, mermaids, sphinxes,
lamias, their grotesquerie no longer repulsive, for it is a foil to the
utmost elegance and sumptuousness of Renaissance art, their multiplicity
never wearying, because they are marshalled by the greatest master in
decorative design that the world has known. They lurk in the
convolutions of exquisite _rinceaux_, uncoiling themselves from the
scrolls of acanthus foliage, where sport also more delicate hybrid
flowers;--women, whose beautiful bodies rise like anthers from the
calices of impossible blossoms, whose arms are coiling tendrils and
whose limbs melt into the curves of exuberant leafage unknown to the
botanist.
But the charm which holds the visitor who penetrates this delicious
solitude is due not alone to the sense of sight. A haunting
suggestiveness breathes from these surroundings, like the perfume
exhaled when one unlocks a long-closed sandal-wood casket, once the
depository of dainty feminine trifles. It needs not the name of the
villa to tell us that a lady, sitting in this loggia, once duplicated Da
Udine's traceries in her embroidery, gathered roses in the garden, and
looked longingly toward Rome while awaiting the coming of her princely
lover, and many a visitor has been piqued by the ignorance of the
custodian of the villa to search history for this mysterious Madama.
[Illustration: Margaret of Austria, Duchess of Parma, 1586
From an old engraving]
Margaret of Austria, daughter of an Emperor, wife of the reputed son of
one Pope and of the grandson of another, Grand Duchess of Tuscany,
and Duchess of Parma, quartered the imperial eagle upon the balls of the
Medici and the lilies of the Farnese. That the bar sinister was
conspicuous upon her escutcheon mattered little in the age in which she
lived, for the Emperor Charles V. acknowledged and advanced the
interests of his illegitimate daughter with the same lack of
embarrassment shown by the popes in the favouritism of their "nephews."
A doubtful advantage this, but one with far-reaching consequences, for
when Margaret was twelve years of age, Charles conquered Rome and the
child's connection with Italy and the Villa Madama had its beginning.
The villa had been built by Raphael for Pope Clement VII., while he was
yet only Cardinal Giulio de' Medici, as a pleasure casino to which he
could retreat from the cares imposed upon him by his cousin, Pope Leo X.
Later when as successor to the tiara he found that not the least burden
in the heavy legacy bequeathed him was that of the guardianship of the
Medici family, it became the resort of his Florentine relatives on their
quieter visits to Rome and the home of a mysterious child, Alessandro,
of whom the Pope announced himself the guardian.
When Lorenzo II., (grandson of the Magnificent) died, leaving but one
legitimate child, Catherine de' Medici, the future Queen of France,
Clement imposed Alessandro upon Florence as the natural son of Duke
Lorenzo.
There lacked not shrugging of shoulders at this imputed parentage and
Florence revolted against receiving a bastard and a mulatto as its
sovereign.
But trouble was brewing both for Florence and the Pope. Charles V. had
determined to make himself master of Italy; his forces closed around
Rome, and Clement, fleeing through the underground passage from the
Vatican, shut himself up in the castle of St. Angelo, and from it beheld
the horrors of the sack of the city.
From its parapets, too, he witnessed the occupation of his cherished
villa by Bourbon's savage soldiery.
Benvenuto Cellini relates (with his characteristic self-laudation) his
prowess in killing the Constable de Bourbon and in defending the castle
of St. Angelo, and although his perspective is slightly forced from his
habit of placing his own colossal figure in the foreground, no
chronicle gives a more vivid account of these stirring events.
[Illustration: Stucchi by Giovanni da Udine
Villa Madama]
What a picture he might have painted for us of the meeting of the Pope
and the Emperor after the pacification; when Clement crowned his late
adversary and Charles, reinstating Duke Alessandro over Florence,
betrothed his beautiful daughter Margaret to that base-born reprobate!
Cellini might also have told us much of the after-life of the Duchess,
for he knew her well, and mentions her with admiration in his
autobiography. He served Alessandro too in Florence, and boasts of the
intimacy which he enjoyed in the ducal household.
There was no one living at that period so well qualified as he to relate
the inner history of that tragical marriage and of the romance which
effaced its memory and lingers still like an elusive perfume in her
exquisite villa.
Judge, lenient reader, if Cellini had told that last story, would not
its main _facts_ have corresponded with those embodied in the following
pages, though the tamer phrasing and more conventional attitude of the
writer compared with the audacity of his racier chronicle
"Are as moonlight unto sunlight,
And as water unto wine."
THE ADVENTURE OF THE CASKET
BEING CERTAIN PAGES NOT INCLUDED IN THE AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF ITS MAKER
I
It will be remembered by those who have read my published memoirs that
in the year 1535, while I was in Florence in the service of Duke
Alessandro de' Medici, I received orders from his excellency to execute
a little _coffre_ in gold to hold his own portrait, a medallion which I
had previously modelled from life and cast in relievo.
That I dismissed so lightly masterpieces of which I had such reason to
be proud was due to the fact that certain personages of exalted station
and of choleric temper, quick and able to revenge any imputation upon
their honour were concerned in the adventures of the casket, so that I
deemed it prudent during their lifetime to withhold a recital which I
trust my present reader may find of a diverting nature.
This casket was conceded by all connoisseurs in such matters to be the
most admirable work of its kind hitherto produced. It was crowned by a
statuette of Hercules, with other most exquisite figurines at the
four corners, set upon feet of crouching sphinxes, half women and half
panthers, and was further enriched by reliefs of laughing boys holding
garlands, by grotesque masks and foliages of the most graceful and
ingenious design that could possibly be conceived.
[Illustration: Villa Madama--Interior]
I had been to infinite pains, as was but fitting since the Duke proposed
to present it to his betrothed, Margaret Duchess of Parma, daughter of
the Emperor Charles the Fifth, to whom he was to be married at Naples on
the return of her father from his glorious expedition against the
Turkish Corsairs. This marriage had been arranged for his "nephew" by
Pope Clement VII. on his pacification with the Emperor after the taking
of Rome, but its consummation had been hitherto delayed on account of
the tender age of the bride. Now, however, she was upon her way to meet
her father. Therefore the Duke requested me to serve as his messenger in
presenting these gifts, whose excellencies I of any person in the world
was most competent to explain and extol.
Instructed that the Duchess Margaret would rest upon her journey at the
villa which Raphael had built for the Pope upon the slopes of Monte
Mario, and which Clement had bestowed upon her as a part of her dowry, I
repaired thither before entering the gates of Rome.
I had been told by the Duke to ask upon my arrival not for the Duchess
but for Monna Afra, who had been installed as housekeeper of the villa
by the Pope when he was as yet only young Cardinal Giulio de' Medici,
and his personal affairs were not submitted to the glare which surrounds
the tiara.
Whatever these may have been, Monna Afra, though once a Moorish slave,
and of dark complexion and uncertain temper, was not without a certain
savage beauty, or would have been but for the marks of tattooing between
her eyes, and, though well advanced in years, carried herself erect with
a dignity worthy of royal descent.
She was dressed in the Moorish fashion, with a profusion of necklaces of
linked sequins of uncut precious stones and of large turquoises, some of
them I could judge of great value, though clumsily set. These necklaces
depended from beneath her gaily striped head-cloth upon her forehead and
also covered her bosom. Her dark blue robe was girdled by a golden belt
of curious workmanship, and she wore bangles upon her ankles with
bracelets of cheap blue glass upon her arms. Her hair, braided in a
multitude of fine plaits, was jet black and heavily perfumed. She wore
but one ear-ring, a hoop of gold in which twinkled a great diamond.
I had a letter for her from the Duke, and as it has never been my
practice to deliver a missive of whose contents I am ignorant, lest I
might be deputed to give orders for my own execution, I had taken the
precaution to open it (having first made an impression of the seal so
that I could reseal it beyond possibility of detection), but all to no
avail for this letter was written in Arabic, of which language I have no
knowledge. I was in twenty minds to destroy it, professing that I had
lost it _en route_, but having calculated that honesty was the more
gainful part to play, I put my trust in my patron saint and boldly
presented it. By so doing I came into possession of an important secret,
for on reading the letter Monna Afra exclaimed: "My son informs me that
you are an unprincipled rogue whose life he holds in his hands, on
account of certain murders which you have committed, and that therefore
I need not fear to trust you with our private affairs."
The opening words of this ungracious speech caused my spirit to leap
within me, for Duke Alessandro far from confiding to me or to any one
else the secret that he was the child of a mulattress, and in all
probability the bastard of the Pope, had persistently maintained that he
was the legitimatised son and rightful heir of the last Duke of
Florence, and his mother a princess whose name would in time be
divulged, and this notwithstanding that his dark complexion proclaimed
him of Oriental race.
I dissimulated my exultation, swore loyalty to my patron's honoured
mother, and showed her the portrait of her son, with which she was
greatly pleased.
"You shall give this to the Duchess, later," she declared, taking the
casket from me, "but first I desire you to copy the medallion for me,
and to say nothing of this commission."
The wish to possess the likeness of her son seemed so natural to a
mother and so flattering to me that I readily consented to oblige her,
being the more content to do so that I found myself extremely well
lodged and nourished in one of the dependencies of the villa, with the
suite of noble attendants appointed to wait upon the Duchess.
Among these I have cause to remember with the utmost vividness a
beautiful page, the grandson of Cardinal Farnese, who waited upon
Margaret as her train-bearer. This boy's name was Ottavio, and I was
drawn to him from the first for his character matched the exceeding
loveliness of his lineaments.
Monna Afra from some strange whim had desired me to copy the Duke's
portrait upon glass, and thinking possibly that I might break the slip,
had given me two of precisely the same size. On one of these I was
impelled to paint for myself the miniature of this adorable child in the
court costume of white satin doublet and white silk hose which he was to
wear at the wedding of the Duchess. To this circumstance was due a
mischance, which while it seemed to work me ill at the time was in the
end productive of good.
Though but a child in years the soul of the page, Ottavio Farnese, was
well-nigh ravished from his body with love for the Duchess, who but six
years older than himself was still but a slip of a girl. Often as I saw
these two children pelting each other with roses and playing many
childish games I wished that by some enchantment I might keep them thus
forever, for my heart revolted at the thought that this exquisite
creature was soon to be sacrificed to a brutal profligate twice her own
age.
"Certes," I said one day to Ottavio, "it is a great pity that you are
not some ten years older, then would I devote myself to your service and
it should go hard ere the daughter of Charles V. should wed with that
swine of an Alessandro de' Medici."
"Is he indeed a hog?" cried the boy, "then will I slay him, for I would
gladly give my life for her."
Seeing that so precocious and so pure an affection was beyond the
conception of our comrades (though not of the ancients since they
figured the love of the boy Cupid for Psyche), I protected Ottavio from
their ribaldry, declaring that I would punish with my sword any who made
a jest of a devotion which might have drawn tears from the angels.
While the Duchess Margaret was in her way equally charming, she was not
of such a heavenly gravity as her little comrade. On the contrary, at
this time her spirits overflowed in a bewitching and mischievous
wilfulness, which made her the more irresistible. She was conscious that
she was soon to be wedded, and this knowledge gave her a sense of
importance together with mysterious heart throbbings and perturbations,
a wild curiosity to know what manner of man her future husband might
be--the coquettishness natural to woman which at times made her rebel at
being thus fettered, all the more that it was without her consent, and
at others built up an ideal in her imagination which she was ready to
fall down and worship.
Seeing her thus curious, Monna Afra had promised Margaret that a
necromancer should show her the presentment of her future husband; and
upon a certain morning this designing woman sent for me, saying that the
slave who ordinarily assisted this magician had suddenly died, and that
she desired me to aid him in his magic rites.
She neglected not at the same time to remind me again that I was
completely in her power and that if I did not perform all that was
demanded of me she would denounce me to the authorities as a murderer.
Thus admonished, and believing also that the necromancer was able to
work me a mischief, I put my trust in St. Michael, confounder of Satan,
and faithfully performed all that I was bidden to do.
Hurrying me into a musician's gallery, which overlooked the chamber in
which the incantations were about to take place, the sorcerer showed me
a strange instrument, compounded of lenses set in a black box in which
burned a small lamp. "Fear not, Benvenuto," he whispered, seeing that I
hesitated, "but manipulate this machine as I will now show you, placing
from time to time these slips of painted glass in front of the lamp, and
when I shall call upon the name of the arch fiend Beelzebub, be careful
to introduce the copy of the portrait of the Duke which you have just
made for Monna Afra." He then made some cabalistic signs upon my
forehead and bidding me be of stout heart descended to the main floor of
the room, which was but dimly lighted by the flames of a brazier.
I could see, however, that around the light were grouped the Duchess
Margaret, Monna Afra and Ottavio, who suspecting some design against his
mistress, had insisted on accompanying her. Around these three the
necromancer now traced upon the floor a magic circle; entering it and
directing Margaret to keep her eyes fixed on the wall opposite to the
little gallery where I stood, he invoked with a loud voice the demons
Soracil, Sathiel, and Ammon dwellers in the moon, bidding them appear
with all their legions.
As I had previously witnessed a similar conjuration by which another
necromancer had filled the tiers of the Colosseum with innumerable
legions of devils, the horrible fear which I had experienced on that
occasion returned in so lively a manner that my hands trembled so that I
could scarcely perform the rites assigned to me. I had hardly introduced
the first slip of glass when Ottavio cried out that the house was on
fire and endeavoured to drag the Duchess from the circle, but the
necromancer held him firmly and commanded him on his life not to stir as
the demons were gathering in force.
Having placed the next slip of glass in its place I myself perceived
them, horrid creatures of gigantic stature clutching at their victims.
Thus the ceremony proceeded, the enchanter uttering strange sentences in
the Hebrew language, while Monna Afra shrieked and howled in
blood-curdling tones.
Ottavio also was well-nigh bereft of his senses with fear, and flinging
his arms about the Duchess cried to the fiends to take him to hell, but
to spare his beloved lady.
At this point, Margaret, who was strangely unafraid, repeated after the
necromancer these words: "I conjure thee, Beelzebub, Prince of Darkness,
to reveal to me the likeness of my lord and husband, and renouncing all
others I promise to be true to him throughout all eternity."
This was my cue, but fumbling in the casket for the portrait of Duke
Alessandro I inadvertently introduced into the throat of the infernal
machine not that bit of glass but the one on which I had painted the
likeness of Ottavio.
Seeing the beautiful face of the lad gleaming like that of an angel
between the rifts of the smoke of hell, there was not one of us who for
the instant doubted that the apparition was miraculous.
Monna Afra ceased her diabolical bellowing, the necromancer was
speechless with surprise, only Ottavio found his voice, and crying, "It
is I, it is I!" fainted from stress of emotion.
Comprehending immediately that I would be held responsible for the
miscarriage of the prodigy I hastily made my escape from the villa, nor
did I, until long thereafter, meet with any of the parties concerned in
this adventure. The augury in which I had assisted seemed false for the
marriage of Margaret to Duke Alessandro took place, as had been planned,
on the arrival of the Emperor at Naples. Though Charles was greeted with
acclamations as the champion of the Church against the infidel, he
having put to flight Hayraddin, admiral of the Sultan, and taken the
city of Tunis, thus liberating thousands of Christian captives,--yet in
the midst of the festivities there lacked not those who saw a certain
inconsistency in the wedding of his sweet daughter to a man notorious
for his wickedness and of the very race which he professed to hold in
such abhorrence.
Duke Alessandro after his marriage refrained not one whit from his evil
ways, but rather exceeded his former profligacy, so that all Florence
was scandalised thereby and pitied his gentle Duchess. I mind me now,
however, that to my astonishment there was one who took another view of
the matter, for Lorenzino de' Medici affirmed that Margaret was
possessed of that dauntless courage which one sees sometimes in the
tamers of lions and other savage beasts; that Alessandro was a
mean-spirited creature cowed by his child wife; and that one had but to
note the haughty poise of her head and the hang-dog sullenness which he
maintained in her presence to guess the truth. Though I abhorred the
Duke, yet as he had made me master of the mint it was necessary that I
should have commerce with him, and on the first occasion upon which I
presented myself being made to wait in an ante-chamber, I overheard a
remarkable conversation which caused me to credit the opinion of
Lorenzino. The door was ajar between the room in which I sat and the
next in which the Duke and Duchess had just risen from breakfast.
What he had said to her I know not, but his face was one malignity as he
leaned toward her across the small table. She faced his snake's eyes,
her own dark with an intensity which should have warned him, and half
beneath her breath, as though she told him of some danger with which she
had nothing to do, as one might have said, "Provoke not that dog, or you
will inevitably be bitten,"--she very quietly uttered these words:
"Lay so much as your finger upon me and I will kill you."
"And what is to hinder my killing you first, my little tigress?" he
hissed.
I had gripped my sword in answer to that question, but there was no
need, for she blazed forth at him, the very daughter of her father.
"The Emperor!" she cried triumphantly, and there she had him; for though
Charles had sold her like a slave and lifted no finger to avenge the
indignity which she suffered, yet Alessandro well knew that he would be
answerable for her life. As she left the room the Duke turned upon his
heel, and catching sight of me cried out angrily that I was well come,
for he was on the point of arresting me for feloniously making away with
the casket and portrait which he had bidden me take to his consort.
I told him truly that I had left the casket in the possession of his
mother. With that he flew into a rage, demanding who had dared to say
that this vile hag was in anyway related to him.
I made answer that Monna Afra had herself told me that this was the
fact, whereupon he swore that he would kill her for spreading such a
rumour, and offered me a large sum to undertake her execution for him.
When I respectfully declined this office he replied: "As you please, but
if you hold not your tongue concerning this matter I will find effectual
means to silence you."
Then reflecting doubtless that I was not a man to be governed by threats
but more likely to be moved to generous deeds by appreciation of my
talents, he admitted that his wife had indeed had the casket in her
possession after I left Villa Madama, and had not missed it until her
chests were unpacked at Naples, and that his true reason for choosing
me to regain and restore it to her was that I was the best fitted of all
his courtiers for so difficult an undertaking.
I replied that the opportunity to serve the Duchess would be the
greatest favour and honour which he could confer upon me,--and with that
he showed me the key of the casket which until now had never quitted
Margaret's chatelaine, desiring me to duplicate it for him, with this
difference that the handle was to be ornamented by a crown of thorns.
When I objected that the metal points would inevitably pierce the hand
of the Duchess when she attempted to unlock the casket, he replied that
he did not design the key for his wife, and bade me obey orders without
foolish comment.
As I am an expert in forging metals I soon made a little key with which
the Duke was delighted. Taking it into his cabinet he returned presently
with a little box on which were inscribed certain Arabic characters.
"This box," said he, "contains the key which you have just fabricated
with an order to Monna Afra to deliver the casket into your hands."
"Since I am to bring away the casket," I replied, "for what purpose do
you send this key? Is it, perchance, that Monna Afra may retain for
herself any of the contents of the _coffre_?"
"I have already reproached you"--the Duke answered with a most malignant
expression--"for giving vent to vain imaginings. If you cannot refrain
from thinking, at least keep silence, and implicitly carry out my
instructions.
"After delivering this package wait a little, while Monna Afra goes to
fetch the casket; should she tarry follow her and, no matter what you
may see or surmise, make no outcry but hasten from the villa failing not
to bring the casket with you. The Duchess tells me that while at the
villa she kept it in a hiding-place constructed by the Pope for his
jewels, which opens by pressing a certain ball upon one of the Medicean
shields with which the villa is so profusely ornamented. But, on
reflection, I see no reason for giving you access to our family
treasure-chest. Monna Afra will not have placed the casket there, since
she herself showed the Duchess the secret receptacle, and it would be
the first place in which she would search for it; and if, indeed, it is
hidden there it is perfectly safe."
Thus commissioned I betook myself again to Rome; but being welcomed by
old acquaintances, and finding an accumulation of important orders
awaiting my attention, I naturally thought that the Duke's business
might wait upon my own, and indeed might have clean forgotten it but for
the following circumstance.
I had gone fowling one day with a friend in the marshes near the villa
of Magliana, in the neighbourhood of Ostia. Toward nightfall (as I have
elsewhere related), happening from a little hill to look in the
direction of Florence, I saw an extraordinary phenomenon, namely, a
heavenly body in the shape of a Turkish scimitar, its blade directed
toward the city. Whereat I exclaimed loudly, "We shall certainly hear
that some great event has occurred at Florence."
Even as I spoke a stranger wrapped in a long cloak who at a little
distance from us was attentively observing this appearance, asked me
what I supposed the portent might signify.
"Nothing less," I replied confidently, giving vent to the first thought
which came into my mind, "than the assassination of Duke Alessandro."
With that he uttered an exclamation in Arabic, and hurried in the
direction of the Tiber. We had ridden but a short distance when some
peasants rushed toward us with frantic gestures, crying out that a ship
rigged after the manner of the Turkish corsairs was moored in the river.
This gave us such a fright that we clapped spurs to our horses and rode
with the utmost speed to Rome. But our fears having somewhat abated, we
made no report of the alarm upon our arrival, realising that we had cut
no great figure in the adventure.
The next day, my thoughts being still upon the Duke, I resolved to
execute his orders and so rode out to the Villa Madama. As I approached
what was my surprise to see descending its terraces the same man who had
accosted me near Magliana.
Monna Afra stood in the loggia watching him, her hand, lifted to her
eyes to protect them from the rays of the setting sun. I told her that I
had come from the Duke and on what errand, and presented the packet
which he had given me.
She read it attentively, and without making any objection or inquiry,
instantly brought the casket. But as she was about to unlock it
something awoke her suspicions, and examining the key more attentively
she thrust it before my eyes exclaiming, "Dog of a Christian, you have
attempted to poison me!"
It needed but a glance to show her fears well founded, for the handle of
the key once of shining copper was corroded to a virulent green, so that
it resembled a bit of antique bronze, and I comprehended that her
villain of a son had dipped the sharp-pointed crown of thorns in some
deadly acid, hoping that in exercising some force in turning the lock
she would lacerate her hand, and that he would thus compass her death.
As I remained speechless she took my condition as an evidence of guilt,
and seizing a torch which hung in a metal _torchere_, rushed upon the
terrace waving it to and fro like a fury. Though I lacked not the wit to
perceive that this was a signal of some sort, yet remembering the Duke's
orders by all means to secure the casket, I did not immediately address
myself to flight, but strove to wrest it from her by force. She,
however, opposed me in this design with all her strength, and throwing
it aside fell upon me with a most ungentle embrace, throttling me and
burying her nails in my neck.
While we struggled thus I was aware of trampling feet and saw the loggia
suddenly filled by a horde of barbarous pirates, refugee Moorish
cut-throats, who had conceived the daring design of making a descent
upon the outskirts of Rome to plunder its rich villas, and first that of
Chigi, in revenge for the chastisement received at the hands of the
Emperor.
For the moment my only thought was one of thankfulness for my release
from this hell-cat, but as I stood with my arms pinioned Monna Afra
brought forward a large sack and, as I understood from her expressive
gestures, demanded that I should be sewn up therein and cast into the
Tiber.
Though he had thrown aside the cloak in which he had previously
disguised, I recognised the man whom I had already twice seen in the
gaudily accoutred officer whom Afra now addressed as Hayraddin.
He spoke to her very earnestly, and I could see that what he said caused
her the greatest consternation, for she tore her hair, howled and
scratched her own face as vehemently as she had formerly maltreated
mine.
Shaking her by the arm he continued to admonish her, until picking up
the casket she retired into the interior of the villa. Then turning to
me he addressed me in good Italian in these words:
"Most noble Signor: You cannot fail to have understood that my sister
desired me to kill you, and that I could readily have done so; but I
have explained to her that you are a great astrologer, for from the
appearance of the heavens you announced to me yesterday the
assassination of her son which news has not yet reached Rome--and has
but this moment been told to me by a party of my men who intercepted the
messenger at the Ponte Molle.
"In deference to your supernatural knowledge I spare your life, and
shall leave you here bound and gagged, where in good time you will
doubtless be discovered. This news of the death of my nephew has
effected more than all my arguments and entreaties, for my sister has no
further desire to remain in this accursed land, but will return with me
to Africa."
Scarcely had he concluded when Monna Afra entered, heavily veiled and
carrying an immense bundle. This one of the pirates took from her, and
supported by two others she followed her brother and I saw her no more.
It was two full days, during which I neither ate nor drank, before I was
released from my miserable plight, but even so I counted myself
fortunate to have escaped with my life.
II
"Ye mariners of Spain
Bend stoutly to your oars
And bring my love again,
For he lies among the Moors."
_Old Spanish Song._
Foreseeing after the death of Duke Alessandro that Florence would long
remain in a disordered condition, I deemed it a proper season to accept
the overtures of his majesty, Francis I., King of the French, to enter
into his service in France.
This patronage I owed solely to my own fame and not, as has been
asserted, to the favour of his daughter-in-law, Catherine de' Medici,
for that princess had no love for her supposed half-brother Alessandro,
or for his Florentine familiars.
Though I could never have been accessory to such vile work as to stab an
unarmed and unsuspecting man, yet often as I thought of Alessandro's
satyr leer, and the loathing bravely coupled with defiance which I had
seen leap in answer to it in the face of his child Duchess, I thanked
God that Lorenzino had no such squeamish conscience.
And yet,--as in the virgin purity of the orange-blossom, the voluptuous
perfume yearningly foretells the luscious, perfect fruit, and the blush
of the peach-bloom shows the flower coyly but triumphantly conscious
that it will one day ripen into mouth-watering deliciousness,--so even
then there were hints and prophecies in Margaret's budding womanliness
that the time was approaching when she would not only awaken love but
would herself know the joy of loving.
The time and the man were nearer than I thought.
It was a matter of but six years subsequent to our first meeting that,
chancing to be again in Rome, I next encountered Ottavio Farnese.
He was no longer the pretty page who had served the Duchess at the Villa
Madama, but had grown into a tall, handsome youth, with the first down
of manhood upon his lip. Though much lighter in weight than myself and
his rapier as slender as a child's toy, he had been well taught in
fencing, as I learned when meeting him by chance in front of St. Peter's
church, he, to my utter surprise, fell upon me crying out that I was a
scurvy knave unfit to live.
As I am not the man to swallow insults of this sort we slashed at one
another without further ceremony until the Papal guards, rushing from
the Vatican, separated us. Recognising Ottavio as the grandson of the
Pope (for Cardinal Farnese had on the death of Clement VI. succeeded to
the tiara), they demanded why we fought. I replied that I had not the
least idea, but Ottavio declared that it was to force me to confess what
I had done with the casket which I had been commissioned to bring to the
Duchess Margaret at Florence.
Laughing a little at his own zeal, but with all due deference I told him
how the casket had been carried away by the Moors, on the evening when I
repaired to Villa Madama to fetch it, and I had the happiness to
convince him of the truth of my statement.
Dismissing the guards he strolled with me in the most amicable manner,
informing me of many events which had happened during my absence in
France.
The first in importance to himself was the fact that he was more madly
than ever in love with the Duchess, and that she having experienced the
brutality of one husband had no mind to venture another, and had
announced her firm intention to remain a widow for the rest of her
life.
In spite of this he had told her of his love, but she had treated him as
a child and made sport of his passion.
"I shall die of her disdain," he said to me, "for my love is beyond my
power to conquer."
Taking him by the hand and perceiving that he was in a fever, and that
unless some hope was extended to him he must lose either his life or his
reason, I counselled him to keep a stout heart. "For," said I, "though
you are young it is a fault which will lessen as years go by, and the
Emperor surely will not look upon his daughter's repugnance to marriage
with approval. Rumour hath it that he is on his way to punish, for a
second time, the Moorish pirates who are back in their old nest at
Tunis. When he visits Rome you should persuade the Pope to intercede
with him in your behalf."
"As if I had not already thought of that!" Ottavio replied. "I have
freely opened my heart to my grandfather, and he has negotiated with the
Emperor, who is as favourable to an alliance with a Farnese Pope as he
was to a similar compact with the Medici. Charles could force his
daughter to accept me, as he compelled her to marry Alessandro; but I
will not win her in that way, and she despises me, doubtless, for what
she considers my pusillanimity.
"When I pleaded with her but yesterday bidding her set me any task to
accomplish as a proof of my love--she laughed scornfully, saying that
she had no lack of pages to fetch and carry unless it were to demand of
Benvenuto Cellini the casket which he had forgotten to return to her.
"Then, though I knew that you, Benvenuto, were accounted a desperate
man, I swore to her that I would not enter her presence again until I
had fulfilled her behest. Yea, and I will fulfil it, for I will sail
with the Emperor on this expedition to Tunis and will find the hag Afra
and wrest it from her."
"Your determination," I replied, "is a good one, and, as the adventure
appeals to me, I will go with you. I have already met Hayraddin,
commander of the Corsairs and brother of Monna Afra, who should know the
whereabouts of the casket, and I may be able to aid you in obtaining
it."
As the affair turned out, though Ottavio did indeed sail for Africa with
the Emperor, I was not allowed to accompany him, for his father,
feigning to believe that the casket, together with certain valuable
jewels stolen from Pope Clement, was in my possession, or at least
hidden in some spot nearer to Rome than Tunis, caused me to be
imprisoned in the castle of St. Angelo, until such time as I should make
restitution.
He did this, moreover, without informing his son of my arrest, so that
Ottavio departed believing that I had wilfully failed of my promise to
go with him. But I was not alone in misfortune, for the Emperor far from
achieving victories similar to those which crowned his previous
expedition, met with terrible storms which scattered the ships of his
fleet and wrecked many of them upon the coast of Africa, where the
savage barbarians, descending upon the drowning mariners, massacred them
in cold blood.
Word was brought back to Rome that this was the fate both of the Emperor
and of Ottavio Farnese, and though this proved but an unfounded rumour,
the heart of the gentle Margaret was filled with remorse as well as
grief, for having driven so chivalrous a youth and one who loved her so
devotedly to his death.
She mourned him most sincerely, wearing widow's weeds in his honour as
though she had in reality been his bride. Such is the strange
contrariety of a woman's heart that he who living had been the object of
her scorn, was now loved with the most vehement passion.
When at last it was known that the Emperor and Ottavio had indeed been
rescued and were returning to Italy, but that the latter was dangerously
ill, her transports of alternate joy and foreboding were most piteous to
behold.
I was a witness to them, for at this time by twisting my sheets into a
rope I had most marvellously escaped from the battlements of St. Angelo.
As I deemed it prudent to remain for a time in hiding and knew that the
Villa Madama was unoccupied, I had repaired thither under cover of the
night, and without undressing had slept soundly upon the floor, the
house being denuded of furniture.
But in the morning I was awakened by a great clatter of trampling horses
and sumpter mules, and springing to my feet and finding myself
confronted by the Duchess I gave myself up for lost. This was, however,
the most fortunate circumstance which could have happened to me, for on
hearing my story she promised me her protection and her intercession
with the Pope. She told me also that she had come with all this train of
servants and household stuff to put the villa in order for the reception
of her betrothed husband, Ottavio Farnese, as a more salubrious
residence than her palace at Rome, and more conducive to his rapid
recovery.
And hither, shortly after, he was borne in a litter and I beheld their
rapturous meeting, and certes the spectacle of so great joy went far
toward repaying me for all the misfortunes which I had suffered.
The young Duke, though very weak, extended his hand to me with a smile,
saying that I was ever Benvenuto (welcome), and reminding me how in that
very spot I had assisted at incantations which had foretold that he
would one day be the husband of the Duchess, which prognostication was
now so miraculously fulfilled. "I have," he added, "but one
regret--that I come to her forsworn, for I promised ere claiming her
as my wife to recover the casket."
"That promise, my Lord," I made haste to reply, "you shall keep, for I
have been more fortunate in my quest than your excellency."
I then showed him the secret hiding-place constructed by Pope Clement
in the wall; for, while prowling in the villa, I had remembered what
Duke Alessandro had said of it, and had not failed to press each one of
the Medici balls, so frequently employed in the decoration of the villa,
until I lighted upon the ingenious spring which disclosed the recess,
and within it a package marked with the name of the Duchess.
The wrapper had mouldered away with dampness and discovered the casket
with the poisoned key still in the lock, having been so left by that
wicked Afra with the express design of revenging herself upon the
innocent Margaret for the death of her abominable son, and perhaps also
upon Margaret's father for the misfortunes which he had occasioned her
race.
The Duchess being called, evinced the greatest joy and would have fallen
into the trap and have unlocked the casket at once, had I not first
discovered the key and sent for a pair of pincers with which I turned
it. While waiting the arrival of the pincers she asked her consort if he
had any idea why she set such store upon the casket.
"Doubtless," he replied with a frown, "because it contains the portrait
of your husband, who, with all his faults, was at least a brave man."
"You have rightly guessed," she answered, "the bravest of the brave and
the only man whom I have ever loved."
I marvelled to hear her thus speak, until the lid being opened, we
discovered, not my medal of Alessandro de' Medici, for that Margaret had
long ago given to his mother as an inconsiderate trifle; but the
likeness of the pretty page, Ottavio, which I had painted at their first
acquaintance; and which, in despite all contrariety of womanly
coquetry, had remained as ineffaceably imprinted upon her heart.