Minuterie work is all that class of work done with the punch, such
as rings and pendents and bracelets. In my time, too, it was the
custom, among other charming things, to make little medals of gold
which were worn in the hat or the cap; and on these medals portraits
were engraved in low or half relief, and in the round, and they
looked just lovely. The greatest master in this art that I ever knew,
lived in the times of the Popes Leo, Adrian, and Clement, and he was
Caradosso of whom I told you above. Now will I tell you not only of
the method which he adopted in his craft, but that which was employed
by other masters. It was Caradosso’s custom to make a little model
in wax of the form he wished his work to be. When he had carefully
finished the modelling of this and filled in all the undercutting,
he made a cast of it in bronze of the proper thickness; then he beat
out a gold leaf rather thicker, if anything, in the middle, and so
as to admit of its being easily bent, and in surface some two knife
backs bigger than the surface of the model. This he proceeded to
beat out into a slightly curved form, and to soften with heat, and
then laid on to the bronze model, and with punches of the right
sort,—wooden ones to begin with of birch or cornel,[50] the latter by
preference—he very, very carefully followed the shape of his figure
or whatever it was he was working on. Ever so much care is necessary
while doing this to prevent the gold from splitting. And on you work,
now with your wooden, now with your steel punches, sometimes from the
back, sometimes from the front, ever most mindful to keep an equal
thickness throughout, for if it become thicker in one place than in
another, the work would not attain so fine a finish. It was just in
this very getting of the gold so equal all over that I never knew a
man to beat Caradosso. Well, then, when you’ve got your model worked
up to the point of relief at which you want to bring it, you begin
with the greatest cunning to bring the gold together over the legs
and over the arms and round behind the heads of the figures & the
animals, then, if, when all has been well worked together, there is
still a little bit of gold loose at the edges, you carefully cut it
off with a pair of scissors. And the little bits that stick out at
the back of the legs and arms and heads, that is to say those in high
relief, are likewise ever so carefully beaten down. By the way, I
ought to have told you that your gold must be good, gold of at least
twenty-two-and-a-half carats, but not quite twenty-three carat gold,
for you’d find that a bit too soft to work in; and if it were less
than twenty-two-and-a-half it would be too hard, and rather dangerous
to solder.
And now for the soldering, if you’ve brought your work on so far. For
this same hot soldering you take a little verdigris, the best you can
get, from its original cake, nor must it ever have been used before,
& it should be about the size of a young hazel nut without its rind,
with it you put the sixth part of salts of ammonia and as much borax;
when these three substances are well-pounded together you dissolve
them in a glass of clear water. Then with a soft wood shaving you
take the mixture, which will now have the substance of a paint, and
spread wherever there are joint lines on arms, legs, heads, or on the
ground of your work. After this you pepper a little more well-pounded
borax upon them out of your borax castor, and then light a fresh fire
of partly consumed-wood coal and put your work in the fire. See that
your coals are set with their unconsumed sides away from it as they
are apt to smoke. This done, erect a little grating of coal on top
of your work, minding, however, that the charcoal does not touch the
work itself. Be ready at hand when the charcoal is beginning to glow
and your work is growing fire-coloured, to blow wind over it with
your bellows very skillfully and very evenly, so that the flames may
play all round it alike. If you blow too hard the fire will spring up
and burst into flame, and you run the risk of melting and spoiling
your work. Watching with care you will see the outer skin of gold
begin to glow and then to move; as soon as you note this, quickly
take a brush and sprinkle a little water on your work, which will
there and then be beautifully soldered without any need of special
solder being applied to it. And this one might call the first firing.
Indeed, the first soldering ought not to be called soldering at all,
but rather firing in one piece, because there is so much virtue in
the verdigris when combined with the salts of ammonia and the borax,
that it only moves the outer skin of gold, and so fuses[51] it
together that it all grows to one even strength. After this you put
your work into vinegar very strong and clean and mixed with a little
salt, and in this you let it bide overnight. Next morning you find it
bright and free of all borax.
After this you put a little stucco at the back of it so that you can
work on it with your punches; and this stucco you make of Greek pitch
resin with a little yellow beeswax, together with a little brick
dust or well-ground terra cotta; and this is the real right sort of
stucco on which you may lay your medals, or any other similar work
you may have to chase. Then, as to your punches, you must have no
end of these, from the broadest, getting smaller and smaller down to
the very tiniest; and every one of these must have no sort or kind
of cutting edge, because, you see, they are only to be used for the
purpose of beating in and not of taking away; and this beating in you
have to do ever so delicately.
Now of a sooth shall you find that in the doing of this you will have
made lots of little holes and rents, and these same have got to be
soldered up. Not, mark you, in the way you did it before, but by the
making of a special solder, and in this wise: You take six carats
of pure and fine gold & put with it one-and-a-half carats of fine
silver and of fine copper, melting the gold first, and then putting
the others to it, and so you have your solder, and with it you may
make good all your holes and rents. Note further, that at every fresh
soldering you must introduce a fresh alloy of silver and copper[52]
so as to prevent the solder of the time before from running together;
and so on, too, in between each turn, out you take your work, press
it on the stucco, & chase over it with your punches until you have
wrought it to such finish as you may desire. And then you have the
whole fair method of the Master Caradosso of whom I told you before.
Now I’ll tell you of another fine way of working employed by other
able men who ran him pretty close. After the model in wax has been
made and you have decided what it is you want to create, you take a
sheet of gold, as I explained above, thin at the sides and thick in
the centre, and you little by little beat it from the back with your
larger punches until it is bossed up much like your model; by this
means you don’t need to use your bronze,[53] and you bring your work
considerably forward before even in the other method the casting
is done. In the former method, too, you will have had, before each
re-joining, to rub your medal down with glass paper (such stuff as
the glass makers sell) in order to clean from it most carefully
whatever matters the fumes from the bronze may have sullied the gold
withal. But if you follow my second method you won’t need to do this
glass papering, because you won’t be bothered by the nasty stains the
bronze makes on the gold.
Whenever I can, while thus telling of my craft, I purpose giving you
a practical example, which you know is always a much better way of
explaining what a man means, & which will make those of my readers
who are eager to learn and to practise and delight themselves in
these divers methods, much more likely to believe what they read. In
the manner above described I once fashioned a medal for a certain
Girolano Maretta, a Sienese; and on this medal was a Hercules rending
the jaws of the lion. Both Hercules and lion had I wrought in such
high relief that they only just touched the background by means of
the tiniest attachments. The whole work had been done in the second
of the above methods, that is to say without the bronze models; now
working from in front, now from the reverse, and brought to such
a height of delicacy and finish of design that our mighty Michael
Angelo himself came to my very workshop to see it, & when he had
looked at it a minute or so, he, in order to encourage me, said: ‘If
this work were made in great, whether of marble or of bronze, and
fashioned with as exquisite design as this, it would astonish the
world; and even in its present size it seems to me so beautiful that
I do not think ever a goldsmith of the ancient world fashioned aught
to come up to it!’ These words stiffened me up[54] just, and gave me
the greatest longing to work, not only in the smaller things, but to
try larger things also. For, thought I, words such as these, coming
from so great a man, can but have the following meaning: Had the
figures been tried on a large scale I should not have produced them
with near such beauty as on a small; and while, on the one hand, the
great man gave me so much praise, he, on the other, intimated that
one who could do things in little of such merit might yet not be able
to do them in great. But still, not so much because I imagined this
to have been Michael Angelo’s meaning, as that I had heard that he
had expressed it in words to others, these words of his inspired me
with longing to learn yet a thousand times more than I knew already.
This happened about a year after the sack of Rome; I was in Florence
at the time. When I had made the medal, one of our Florentine
gentlemen, by name Federigo Ginori, came & looked me up. He was
a great lover of beautiful things, and especially fond of men of
talent, to whom he was a great patron. In former days he had been
many years in Naples on business, & there he had fallen in love
with a great princess. On his return to Florence he bethought him
of having a medal made, whereon to record this somewhat formidable
attachment of his. So he came and found me out, and spake:
‘Benvenuto, my well-beloved, I have seen a little medal by your hand
made for Girolano Maretta, and albeit I long to tell you that it
is impossible for any medal to cap that one, yet for the love you
bear me, make another for me, will you, if not more then at least
as beautiful as that one; and in this medal I should like to see
an Atlas with the heavens on his back; & I should like it all so
exquisitely done that it shall be recognised at once; & pray don’t
bother about any considerations of cost whatever.’ I set to work
and made a little model with all the diligence I could, fashioning
the Atlas in question out of white wax. Then, having said to the
gentleman that he might leave the working out to me, I determined to
make a medal that should have a field of lapis lazuli, the heavens a
ball of crystal, & engraven upon them the signs of the zodiac. So I
made a plate of gold, and began, bit by bit to work my figure up in
relief with all the patience you can possibly imagine. I took a small
rounded stake,[55] and on this I wrought little by little, working
up the gold from the ground with a small hammer, working right into
arms and legs, & making all alike of equal thickness. In this manner,
& with the greatest diligence and patience I brought the work to
completion. This we call ‘lavorare in tondo,’ working in the round;
that is without putting the figure on pitch, or such a stucco basis
as I described above. It wasn’t till I’d worked it up to a certain
point that I then took my punches and continued it on the stucco
with very great finish. Then little by little did I raise the figure
off its ground,[56] which is a thing very difficult to explain how
to do—still I’ll tell you as best I can. Previously we saw how the
arms & legs of the figure might be worked as one and part of the
gold background, and thus make it possible for the background to be
utilised as a fitting part of the design. Now, however, since the
background is not needed as a part of the design, it may be used up;
therefore with a small hammer on your little stake or anvil, & with
the small end of the hammer you work gently on the gold, and with the
action of the hand push the gold behind, using the punches as well,
so that the figure comes up in high relief from the ground. In the
other method where you left the figures on the ground, you didn’t
want them in high relief, but took care that your fine ground never
got out of line; now, however, since you have no use for it, you can
twist it about at will, care only being taken that sufficient gold
is left for the attachments at the back, and when all the background
is cut away you can proceed to fix your figure on to whatever
independent background you may have devised for it. After this you
give it a last coating of solder to finish up with, but without
however laying your work on the stucco, for the simple reason that
there are now no more open places for the stucco to go in. This is
how I did the Atlas, & when I had finished him, I fixed him in those
places where he was to touch the lapis lazuli background by means of
fastening two little pins or stakes of gold, of sufficient strength,
into holes made in the lapis, and so he was firmly set. Then I got
a lovely crystal ball, of good proportion to my Atlas, engraved the
zodiac thereon, and fixed it upon the nape of his neck, so that he
held it high in his hands. To end all I made a most sumptuous frame
adorned with gold, full of foliage, fruits, and other conceits, and
set the whole of my work within it. Nor ought I to forget a very
pretty sentiment that had to be added in the shape of a Latin motto.
My gallant, inasmuch as he was enamoured of so great a lady, and of
rank so much loftier than himself, wished me to place on the medal
the words ‘_summam tulisse juvat_.’
Some say that this gentleman died shortly after, though still quite
in his youth, by reason of his love for the lady. As he had been
a friend of Messer Luigi Alamanni, also a great lover of art, the
latter at his death came into possession of the medal, & he, while at
a later time on a visit to the King of France, made a present of the
medal to the King. Then began the King to make most earnest inquiry
as to whether he knew the master who had made the medal. Messer Luigi
declared that he did not know him personally, albeit he was all along
my very dear friend. King Francis thereupon began to have a great
longing that I should come & enter his service, the which in the
end I did. But of that I’ll tell later on, all in its proper place,
because that didn’t happen till many years after.
I promised to speak in good time of a clasp that I made for Pope
Clement to fasten his cope with. Now since I can’t do your fine
elegant manner of writing I’ll tell about my craft as clearly as
I can, and as well as my simple mind will permit it, and best of
all, I’ll give some more examples of things that happened to me—I
shall be much safer if I do that. This clasp was a very big and a
very hard job; for, albeit a small piece of work, there is little
doubt but that these small pieces of work are often harder the
smaller they are. The clasp was about the size of an open palm
and circular in form. Within it was a design of God the Father
giving the benediction. The head and arms of the Father were worked
completely in the round, the rest was raised in good relief out
of the background, and was surrounded by a number of jolly little
angels, & of these some of them were peeping from out of His mantle,
some were scattered about among jewels, of which I’ll tell you first.
These angel babies were some of them done completely in the round,
others in high relief, others again in bas-relief. And I so devised
it that God the Father was seated on the big diamond, which had been
bought it was said for 30,000 scudi. This suggests the reflection as
to how much harder it is for a man to do a piece of work in which
his design is limited by having to use special jewels or aught else
in particular. Still for all that, you can do anything if only you
set to work at it with all the love & the zeal that your noble craft
demands of you, and so did I, and this is how I did it. I flattened
out a sheet of gold about a finger’s width wider than my work was to
be, having first made a very highly finished model of it. Then I
began beating up the middle of the plate with my small hammers upon
the stake; & now working with the narrow end on the front, now on
the back, I gradually bossed up the gold, using the punches in like
manner, till the figure little by little took shape; & so, little by
little, first using one tool, & then another, I gradually mastered
the material, till one fine day God the Father stood forth in the
round, most comely to behold.
Pope Clement had got to hear that I worked in a method different
from Caradosso, for certain envious men had told it to some of his
suite, & by reason of their evil tongues the holy father imagined
that I was an ignoramus and not up to managing so big a job. So he
sent for me to come and show him the method in which I worked, and
how far I had got. Straightway I went to him, bringing with me my
work as far as it had got. God the Father stood out from it already &
showed very well how He was going to look when finished. For my part
I thought that the work in the metal excelled that in the wax, and so
thought his Holiness also; and being the sensible man that he was,
he turned to certain gentlemen of his suite & said: ‘Great is the
virtue of determination,[57] the more she is troubled with envy the
more beautiful doth she become, & grows in despite thereof. I know
but little of the technique of the work, but I am well assured that
it is much more beautiful now than in the model I saw before: only I
can’t for the life of me see how you are going to get that crowd of
angels on to this disc without spoiling what you have done already.’
On this I described to the Pope the way in which I purposed to bring
the angels to the fore, one by one, first those that were to be quite
in the round, then those of less relief, working the gold up thick
into the places where the highest relief was to be, in fact just as
I had worked up God the Father, and employing hammers and punches
alternately, now from in front, now from the back; and I showed him
how the highest part of the relief was the hardest part of the work,
and how the great art was to get the gold of as equal thickness as
possible all over. Of course I know quite well that our good Master
Caradosso worked in a different way, and indeed I learnt many goodly
things from him; and for those who have learnt their craft, ’tis easy
to put two and two together. But I’m of opinion that Caradosso’s
method of working on the bronze model would have been much more
difficult to employ in this instance, would have taken a much longer
time, would have needed ever so many botchings and solderings, &
would have run all the risks of the fire into the bargain. Thus my
experience was that by employing the other method you got rid of all
these difficulties and had your work done much quicker.
At these words of mine the good Pope, who was really an exceedingly
capable man, said: ‘Go, my Benvenuto, work in your own way, finish
it for me quickly, and it shall be well for you; and when, from time
to time, I bid you come, bring your work with you; not that I may
instruct you thereon, but that I may have the joy of beholding such
goodly handiwork as yours.’
The age of a good prince whose delight is in the encouragement of all
beautiful things is the age for men of talent, and such a time came
about in the days of the first Cosimo de Medici, who was their great
patron. It was he who gave Filippo Brunellesco, Donatello, & Lorenzo
Ghiberti their opportunity. Filippo was as fine an architect as
ever was; Donatello sculped in marble and in bronze, & even wrought
wondrously in the difficult art of painting. Lorenzo Ghiberti made
the bronze gates of S. Giovanni that have no equal in the world.
Then came Lorenzo de Medici, under whom was developed Michael Angelo
Buonaroti, most marvellous of men. He had scarce given proof as
yet of his great powers when God willed that he should be called
to Rome by Pope Julius II., who not only took pleasure in all that
was beautiful, but also understood it, and so set Bramante, the
architect, to work. Bramante, who, though a painter of little credit,
had such a bent towards architecture in its grandest manner, that
good Pope Julius, of his bountifulness, gave him lots of work and a
salary of 1000 scudi a year to boot. Seeing how fond Pope Julius was
of all kinds of beautiful work, and how he had a mind to have the
inside of the Sistine Chapel painted, Bramante introduced Michael
Angelo, who was then living in Rome almost unknown & of little
account. The work was entrusted to him, & such goodly encouragement
did he receive in the painting of that wonderful chapel that the
grand manner of painting was as it were revived. Then came Pope Leo
X., and at the same time Francis, King of France; and these twain ran
it hard between them as to which should gather the greatest talent
about him. Then came the luckless Pope Clement, and he helped and
furthered the arts too, ’tis true, but he had so much adversity in
his papacy, and there was so much trouble in the land, that he could
never help as much as his kindly soul longed to do. I know well to
tell of this for I served him during all his papacy, and was quite a
young man at the time.
It was in connection with the work of which I have been telling you
above that the Pope said he wished to see the designs and models of
all those who thought themselves able to undertake the work; and this
was soon after the great sack of Rome, and I had come thither from
Florence, and when I heard the rumour of it, I too made me a model
in white wax of the size the work was to be, & taking it with me
presented myself before the Pope. Many artists were there showing
the sketches they had prepared for this beautiful commission, & when
I joined them the Pope had already seen a goodly number, and they
were set before his Holiness by one Micheletto, a stone-carver, an
able man enough in his own line. In all these divers designs their
authors had so devised it that the big diamond was set in the middle
of the breast of God the Father.[58] The Pope himself had suggested
the motive of the design, but when he saw how everybody alike had
set so great a stone into the breast of so tiny a figure he said:
‘Why can’t that stone be set in some other manner except always in
the breast?’ Whereupon some of them replied that it could not be set
otherwise if right value was to be given to it in the design. The
Pope, who was beginning to weary of so many designs, turned to me and
asked if I had brought nothing to show; while I was still undoing my
box the Pope turned to some of the older masters, and said to them:
‘’Tis always well to look at everybody’s rendering of a thing: albeit
Benvenuto is young, yet have I seen work of his that convinces me
that he is in the right way.’ Then when I had uncovered my model &
put it before him; he had scarce seen it when he turned to me and
cried out: ‘You’ve hit it! that’s how I want it done!’ Then he turned
to the others & said: ‘See you now how this diamond can perfectly
well be applied in another manner. Mark how Benvenuto has made a
stool of it and seated his figure thereon; a better way of rendering
it I can’t conceive.’ Straightway he had me paid 500 golden scudi,
and with most courteous words bade me God speed to my work. And this
was the beginning of such work as I—simple man as I am—have been
enabled to do for the world.
You remember I promised in the beginning of my book to tell the
causes that inspired me to write it, causes which will move men to
great wrath & to great compassion for me. Well, I can’t keep it
locked up in my breast any more, I must out with it! I have just
told how great princes give opportunity to men of genius, & cause to
re-kindle through them the beautiful art of the past. Well, I make
bold to say that Francis, King of France, was the greatest lover
of genius & the most open-handed of any man that ever lived in the
world. I was called to his Majesty when I was in Rome, and I joined
him in the year 1540, being just forty years of age. This king gave
me all sorts of goodly work to do, the which I will describe all in
their place, according as their various methods demand.
During my time with his Majesty I made my first big works in
sculpture and bronze, works of great size; never had I to ask him for
pay or provision, but I just lived on his lordly liberality; for out
of it he made me a stipend of 1000 scudi annually, & gave me into
the bargain a castle that is in Paris called ‘Petit Nello,’ wherein I
served him four entire years. And forasmuch as there was great war in
these parts, I begged grace of his Majesty to let me travel to Italy;
which favour he accorded me, though none too willingly. In the end I
left with his good will, and remained his creditor for 700 ducats of
gold of my salary, & in addition all the stock and material for the
great works I had been engaged on, the which amounted to about 15,000
scudi.
In my castle,[59] which I left under the guard of my two pupils,
Pagolo Romano and Ascanio Napoletano, I left several great and
small vases made of my own silver, not to mention a large vase all
embossed with figures. This one I had made with the King’s silver,
& the others, as I have said, were made from my silver, & therefore
mine. And over and above all this I left behind all the flower of the
studies of my twenty years in Rome, and all the rich furniture of
my house, which was such as to be worthy of hosting any noble lord
or gentleman. The Bishop of Paira, who was a friend of mine, did I
thus entertain, and bring away from the hostel where he was staying,
during a long sojourn in Paris; & to many others too, in like manner,
I gave abundant hospitality. I affirm that I came to Italy for no
other purpose than to keep my six poor nephews, sons of my own
sister; and I gave aid to all of them as soon as I was again among
them. Before departing from Italy I went to seek out my lord the
illustrious Duke Cosimo de Medici in order to pay him my respects,
and ask his permission to return again to France. This amiable
prince gave me as warm a greeting as could possibly be imagined, &
intreated of me to make him a model for a statue of Perseus with the
head of Medusa in his hand, telling me that he wished to erect the
statue under one of the arches in the great loggia of the Piazza.
This raised a mighty zeal for glory within me, & I said to myself:
‘So is a work of yours to stand between one of Michael Angelo & one
of Donatello, both of them men who surpassed the ancients in genius?
What greater treasure could I desire than the honour of being set
between these two mighty men?’ And forasmuch as I knew that my
studies in this art had by no means been slight, I promised myself
that my work should hold its own beside theirs. In lightness of heart
and full of energy I set me to a model of a Perseus about the height
of a cubit, such as his excellency had commissioned; and when I had
done it I took it to him, and he marvelled at it & said: ‘Benvenuto,
if you had the courage to do this thing in great as admirably as you
have done it in little, I trow for a certainty that it would be the
loveliest work in the Piazza.’ These words moved me greatly, and in
part with confidence for what I had already done, in part with great
ambition for what I had still in mind to do, I said to the Duke,
but with due modesty: ‘Most excellent sire, consider well that in
this Piazza are works by Donatello and by Michael Angelo Buonaroti,
perhaps the biggest men that ever were in the world; as for my own
little model, I will undertake to turn out the work at least three
times more beautiful than this model you see here.’
[Illustration: A Wax Model for the Perseus]
At these words of mine the duke shook his head, & I took leave of
him. Two days after he set a room at my disposal, supplied it with
material and all the appliances needful for doing the work, the
which by slow degrees in a few years and after great difficulties
needless here to relate, I completed in the state you now see it.
The noble duke said to me in winning words that I had been better
than my promise, and as I had contented him so well he was minded
similarly to content me in whatever way I might wish. At this so
charming speech from his Excellency I asked leave first before he
accorded me aught for my labours, to be allowed to go on a pilgrimage
to Vallombrosa, Camaldoli, Erma and S. Francesco, in order to give
thanks to God for having helped me through so many difficulties, all
of which I will tell of in their place. At these words his Excellency
was graciously pleased to let me go, and so I went on my way, giving
thanks to God. In about six days I returned, and at once called upon
my lord, who welcomed me again with the greatest favour. Two days
later he seemed a bit grumpy without my having ever given him any
cause for being so. When I asked him for leave of absence, he refused
to grant it, and at the same time he gave me no more commissions, so
that I could serve neither him nor other man. Nor was I able to find
out the reason for the evil plight I was in. So in my despair I felt
sure my bad luck was due to the influence of those heavenly powers
who have dominance over us here below; & in this state set to work to
write my whole life, my origin, and all the deeds I had done in the
world, and I also described the many years in which I had served the
illustrious Duke Cosimo. But on thinking the matter over I was minded
how great princes often take it ill if their subjects complain & tell
the truth about them; so with much heart-burning & not without tears
I tore up what I had written about the part of my life spent in Duke
Cosimo’s service & threw it into the fire, vowing that I would never
write about it again. But for the mere purpose of being of some use
to the world, since I was thus left with nothing to do, and moreover
prevented from doing aught, & wishing to give God some sort of thanks
for having made me the man I was, I set to write what I am now
writing. Well, it’s off my mind now, so let us get back again to good
Pope Clement, who gave me so many opportunities of doing great work,
of all of which I will duly speak.
A little more about the cope clasp, then. Having thus bossed up God
the Father and wrought the whole thing in a manner different from
Caradosso, I set myself afresh to fashion little by little the angels
round about Him, especially those that were of higher relief than
others. Everybody knows that this is one of the most difficult things
to do in our craft, and likewise one of the most pleasing, for just
think, I bossed up in high relief with my punches in the manner I
described above, some fifteen little angels without ever having to
solder the tiniest rent, and all this I was able to do because of my
diligence, my knowledge, my patience, and my mastery over all the
best methods of workmanship. The Pope would scarce let three days
pass without sending for me, and each time would he see first one,
then another angel baby peep forth, and this made him marvel greatly,
and each time he asked me how on earth I managed to do it; & how I
could bring so difficult a piece of work about in so short a time,
and all without a single rent.
‘I have seen,’ said he,—and he was a man who knew a good thing when
he saw it—‘many works of Caradosso which were full of holes and
solder long before they had got as far as this.’ And thus each time
he gave me good encouragement, & I pegged merrily away at my work.
When I had completed all the high relief angels and joined together
the gold behind their heads and arms and legs, and filled up the
openings, I began with great care the soldering, doing it in the way
I described above, but putting with each new soldering a fresh alloy
of the baser metals (_i.e._, the copper & the silver). Now forasmuch
as I did not wish to disfigure so large a work with many solderings,
and also because I wanted later on to enamel it, I put it to the
fire as little as possible, managed to get all the legs and arms and
heads together at one go, & finished the lot in four firings. This
done, I began with great diligence to work over the soldered parts,
especially those on the background, till I had it all of uniform
evenness, whereupon I set it once more on the pitch (_i.e._, the
stucco), & once more wrought it over with the punches. A large number
of angels in bas-relief, & many in mere outline were still to do, so
them I brought out boldly with the punches; upon this I melted the
pitch out again, heated the gold well, & applied it once more to the
pitch, but this time with the under side of the work uppermost, so
that all my figures were buried in the pitch; also this time made the
pitch a bit softer because I was going to emboss from the back the
figures which I had outlined in from the front; & this I did with
great skill, determining which I wanted to boss up most. Then once
again I emptied out the pitch, and placed the work face upwards on
the harder pitch, and most cunningly finished it all over with the
punches as I described above. As there were still the gems to go
upon it I made a base to the work, with an eye attached, so that it
might therewith be applied to the cope on the Pope’s breast. This
base was all worked around with different little snails and masks
and other pleasing trifles, and was firmly fastened with invisible
screws to the boss, and looked just as if it had been soldered on.
As, moreover, the work was enamelled in various places, especially
round the frame work, I set to to burnish it up to a fine finish on
the bare & unwrought parts, and this is how I did that: I took some
four or five hard pointed stones[60] which are sharp at the ends and
thicken upwards in the manner and of the size of punches, and I used
with them some well-powdered pumice stone. The object of using these
stones is to take out the marks of the steel tools, the punches,
chisels, files, and such-like, & to give it a fine uniform surface;
and last, but not least, a brilliancy of colour which would not be so
easy if the marks of the steel tools (and the skin they make) were
not obliterated. To finish the draperies also, I used a very fine
steel tool exquisitely tempered and then broken off, for the broken
end gives the right delicacy of texture;[61] and I tapped it all over
the draperies with a small hammer weighing about two scudi or less, &
this is what we call _camosciare_, tanning the surface.[62] A further
different method yet may be employed for larger drapery, & this is
called _granire_, graining, and is done by a sharp-pointed steel
tool, but not broken like the other one. Then there is yet a further
method by which the ground is sharply accentuated from the figures
by hatching it over with a fine sharp graver[63] in one direction
crosswise, for it does not turn well the other way. When all the
above has been carefully carried out, put your work in a clean glass
vase, & get some little children to make water over it, for their
urine is purer and warmer than men’s. Then prepare to give it its
last finishing touches by colouring. This you do with verdigris &
salts of ammonia; the verdigris must be as pure as possible; and if
you want it firm and richly coloured add a twentieth part of clean
saltpetre, the stuff they make gunpowder with. These must all be well
ground together, but mind you don’t grind them upon iron or bronze,
they must be pounded on stone and with stone; porphyry is the best
stone of all. You then take the powder you have made from the above,
put it in a glass flask, and mixing it with a strong white vinegar,
make a paste of it not too moist nor too dry, and apply this paste
to your work with as fine a hog sable as you can find, putting it on
very evenly and to about the thickness of half a knife’s back. At
the same time you must have ready a wood-coal fire half-burnt out,
spread the coals so that you can lay your work upon them, put it in
the fire & with your pinchers take a few glowing coals and move them
up and down over the paste, especially where it is thickest, so that
it heats equally all over. You must be careful not to do this for
too long, there’s all the difference between heating & scorching
your work, and if you did this it would get a bad colour on the one
hand, & on the other be difficult to clean afterward. When you see
the paste drying equally and about half-dry, put your work on to
a stone, or on a wooden table; and cover it up with a clean basin
till it has got cold. Then put it again into a glass jar, and if you
want it to come out well, let the little ones make water over it
again as before. After this clean it up with small soft hog sables.
This injunction need only be observed in cases where the work is
enamelled, in other cases it will do just to dip it in urine after
the heating of the paste of verdigris. After this the precious gems
are set firmly with screws and clamps, and last of all the base is,
as I told you before, firmly screwed on.
Yet another way there is of working upon gold, particularly in cases
where you want to introduce figures of about half a cubit in size.
Pursuing my method of always making things clear to you by means of
examples, I mind me of many of the cardinals in Rome who used to
have crucifixes in their private cabinets; these crucifixes were
about the height of a palm or a finger more, & were made of gold,
silver and ivory. The first of these gold crucifixes was made by
Master Caradosso, and most admirably designed, and I suppose he got
about 100 scudi apiece for them, or more. First I’ll tell you the
way he made his, then I’ll tell you how I made mine, which differed
considerably from his method, & was much harder, but was sooner
finished, and produced more beautiful results. It was in this wise:
Caradosso would make a little model in wax of the size he wished his
work to be, but he made the legs apart, & not as is customary with
the Crucified, one crossed over the other. Then he cast his model in
bronze; and cutting his gold sheet in triangular form some two or
three large fingers wider all round than would cover his model, he
laid it thereon and hammered it over with rather long wooden hammers
till it looked like a half relief; next he proceeded very carefully
to work it all over front and back with punches & hammers till the
relief stood out to his liking; then, still with the same tools, he
joined the ends of gold together at the figure’s back until they
touched on the round of the head, back, and the legs. After this he
filled the figure with pitch, _i.e._, the aforesaid stucco, and with
punches and hammers brought out[64] all the muscles and limbs. Then
he emptied the pitch out again, joined & soldered the gold together,
using gold of two carats less than the gold of his figure, leaving
one hole still open at the shoulder to admit of the pitch being
again poured in and out; and then wrought it over once more with his
punches; very carefully placed the feet crosswise, and then gave it
its last coating and finish. I don’t employ this bronze method
because I don’t think bronze & gold go well together, the bronze
tending to crack the gold, and the whole thing taking a long time in
the execution. Owing to my experience and my all round knowledge of
the craft, I went straight to the gold with my punches and a number
of small stakes called _caccianfuori_; and so, while Caradosso was
still fiddling away with his bronze casting, I had got several days’
work ahead of him, and was quit of the bother of the bronze firings
into the bargain; and thus, though in other respects I followed
all the methods of this excellent man, also in enamelling and in
colouring, it came about that I did much more and obtained much
better results than he.
[Illustration: King Francis’ Salt, first view]
Now my friend, in order to keep my promise with you as to the real
practical things, and to show you that I’m not one who goes cribbing
other people’s ideas & methods but has worked them out with his own
hands, I’ll tell you of the salt cellar[65] I made for King Francis
I. It was oval in shape and about two-thirds of a cubit round, and
the base of it was about four man’s fingers high, and very richly
ornamented. And I divided it up in such pleasing wise as one’s craft
will allow; one part I made as ocean and the other as earth, and on
the side of ocean I had put a figure of gold about half a cubit high,
completely rounded & made with punches and chisels, in the manner
told above. Ocean was personified by Neptune, God of the Sea, and I
made him in a shell, a kind of nautical triumphal car to which were
yoked four sea-horses—horses’ heads and fishes’ tails. In Neptune’s
right hand I put his trident, while his left was stretched out the
whole length of his arm. Over a most richly wrought bark which was
meant to hold the salt, were graven most minutely and cunningly
battles of marine monsters; on the opposite side to Neptune was a
female figure, of the same size as the male, and I so devised it
that the legs of the male & the female were crossed most gracefully
one with the other, and in each the one leg was bent and the other
extended, thus typifying the mountains & the even places of the
earth. By the side of the female figure I put a little Ionic temple,
most richly wrought, and this was to hold the pepper; in her right
hand was a very elaborate cornucopia of leaves and fruit and flowers,
and on the earth where she sat I indicated a number of beautiful
little beasties, just as on the other side I had fashioned a variety
of exquisite little fish peeping up from the sea. Furthermore, in
the oval body of the salt I had planned out eight niches, in each
one of which figured Spring, Summer, Autumn & Winter, on one side,
and Dawn, Day, Twilight and Night on the other. In the hollow of the
salt’s base was a block of ebony, of which, however, only a tiny
strip showed beneath, and the which, being black, told well against
the gold. This base again rested on four balls of ivory, set half way
into the ebony and so devised that they turned on their pivots, and
you could move the salt cellar about hither and thither on the table,
& roll it where you liked. I must tell you some absurd things that
happened to me when I presented the salt to the most Christian King.
His Majesty had referred me to one of his treasurers, a Monsieur de
Marmagna, a shrewd old fellow, and terribly fierce. Now you know the
French & the Italians are deadly enemies; well, this old gentleman,
about a month before I brought the salt-cellar to the King, had shown
me a little bronze statuette a trifle bigger than my gold ones. This
figure was an Antique, & represented Mercury with his caduceus in his
hand. He told me that it belonged to a poor peasant who would gladly
sell it, whereupon I said that if he did not care to buy it for
himself, I, who knew the figure to be of very charming workmanship,
would willingly give 100 golden scudi for it, and like the frank and
open man I am, I praised the figure greatly, declaring I had never
seen a lovelier. Whereupon that evil old man said he would do his
best to get it for me, and gave me great hopes of getting it, for
that I had set it at a higher value, & offered more than any other
connoisseurs who had seen it. I thought no more about the matter
till the day that I brought my salt-cellar to King Francis. The
good King examined my work very carefully, and expressed himself
most satisfied, when, just as all were expressing their delight,
that wicked old fellow drew forth his statuette & said to the King:
‘Sacred Majesty, this figure is an Antique, as you may readily see;
and ’tis of so excellent workmanship that Benvenuto here has himself
offered 100 golden scudi for it. I had it brought among my baggage
from Languedoc at the time of my treasurership; but courage failed me
to present it to your Majesty until I had satisfied myself that it
was of sufficient excellence to merit your acceptance.’
[Illustration: King Francis’ Salt, second view]
At these words the King turned to me, and, in the old boy’s presence,
asked if what he had said was true. I replied: Most assuredly, and
that the work appeared to me admirable. Whereupon the King said:
‘Then God be praised that here in our own day there be yet men born
who can turn out so much more beautiful things than the ancients.’
Therewith he smiled, and gave old M. de Marmagna back his statuette,
for of course he saw that the intention had been to disparage my work
beside the antique. Hundreds of most graceful & complimentary things
did he continue to say about my work, so much so that I never wished
for any better remuneration for it than I got that day.
FOOTNOTES:
[50] _Cornus sanguinea_, _or dogwood_.
[51] _E con quello stesso lo ammarginano, a tale; che viene a essere
per tutto una equal durezza._
[52] _Or it might be rendered: ‘You must put in the ready-made
solder a little of the alloy,’ which is softer in the fire; each new
soldered piece having to be softer than the last to avoid the running
again of the earlier work: the alloy is presumably half copper and
half silver, though Cellini does not say so; elsewhere he talks of
one copper to two silver, so it might well be one carat of silver and
the half carat of copper._
[53] _Occorre adoperare il bronzo._
[54] _Mi s’appicorno a dosso._
[55] _Tassetino tondo._
[56] _Spiccando dal suo campo._
[57] _E gran cosa la forza che ha la virtù._
[58] _See Cellini’s Autobiography, Symonds’ translation._
[59] _See Cellini’s Autobiography, Symonds’ translation._
[60] _Punte di pietre._
[61] _Una certa grana sotilissima._
[62] _This might be better rendered as ‘matting’ or ‘posting.’_
[63] _Possibly what we should call a ‘scorper.’_
[64] _Ricercando._
[65] _See Autobiography._