Take the gold you wish to refine and beat it thin, cut it into little
pieces of the size and the thickness of a golden scudo. Sometimes the
scudi themselves are taken and a twenty-four carat cement refined
direct from them; and this simple[202] cement has such virtue that
it can draw all the alloy[203] out of the scudo itself without
destroying the impression on the coin, but drawing from it only what
was of base metal.
The cement is made in this wise: Take tartar and brick dust and make
a paste of them; construct a round furnace[204], & into the joints
of the furnace between one brick and another spread the paste; put
your pieces of gold, or the scudi themselves, if you use them, into
the paste, and cover them well up with more of it; then fire for
twenty-four hours, at the end of which time they will be refined to
twenty-four carats.[205]
Know, gentle reader, that this screed of mine is not writ for the
purpose of teaching such as are refiners[206] by profession how to
make aquafortis, my only care is to show how & to what end it may
serve the art of goldsmithing; for it came about that having made
certain golden figures half a cubit high for King Francis, when they
were near the ending, during the softening in the fire, it happened
they got a film of lead fumes across them, and had I not covered
them over with this cement lotion they would have gone brittle as
glass.[207] Then I gave them six hours moderate firing, and so in
this way freed them from so evil a blemish.
THE END OF THE TREATISE ON GOLDSMITHING.
FOOTNOTES:
[202] _Cellini may intend a stronger sense to the word_ ‘_semplice_.’
[203] _Lega._
[204] _See above, furnace construction._
[205] _Cellini appears not to have quite understood the process.
Geber, who gives the oldest description of it_, ‘_Alchemiae
Gebri Arabis Philosophi Solertissimi Libri, etc. Joa͠n: Petreius
Nuremberge͠n denuo Bernae excudi faciebat_,’ _anno 1545, p. 51, gives
the ingredients thus: ‘Vitriol (ferrous sulphate), sal ammoniac,
flower of copper (scale of oxide of copper formed by heating the
metal with access of air), ground old earthen pot, sulphur in the
smallest quantity or none at all, man’s urine, together with similar
sharp and penetrating substances,’ etc. See Percy’s ‘Metallurgy,’
Murray, 1880; Part I., p. 385. Prof. Roberts-Austen adds that
‘usually the “cement,” and the gold to be purified, were placed
together into a porous earthen pot, and not between the joints of the
brickwork.’_
[206] _Partitore._
[207] _I am assured that this is a point of considerable scientific
interest._
[Illustration: (Decorative Flower)]
THE TREATISE ON SCULPTURE.
[Illustration: The Nymph of Fontainebleau]
THE TREATISE ON SCULPTURE.
CHAPTER I. ON THE ART OF CASTING IN BRONZE.
As in other places I have done, so now will I do afresh, & in order
to give more surety & confidence to him that reads this screed of
mine, adduce examples from sundry great works in bronze that I made
for King Francis while in the glorious city of Paris. Those bronzes
in part I finished, the greater part I left imperfect. One of the
completed ones was a lunette about eight cubits across, made for
the gateway of Fontainebleau. For this arch I fashioned a statue
about seven cubits long in rather more than half relief, it was a
figure personifying the fountain. Under its left arm were vases, from
which water seemed to flow, and its right arm was posed upon the
head of a stag, a great part of whose neck was brought out in full
relief. On one side of the lunette were a number of dogs, that is
to say setters[208] & greyhounds; on the other side were fashioned
stags and wild boar. Above the lunette I made two little angels
with torches in their hands as signifying victory, & over the whole
was the salamander, the emblem of the King. There was abundance of
rich festoonment, and two great satyrs for the pilasters of the
gate. These latter were not cast, but were left in a state ready for
casting. The lunette, however, was cast in several pieces, & the
first and biggest was the nymph of Fontainebleau herself.[209] Her
head & other portions of her body stood out in full relief, while the
rest were in half relief. The way I fashioned her was as follows.
I made a model in clay of just the size the figure was to be; this
done, I estimated that the shrinkage would be about one finger’s
thickness. So I very carefully went over the whole, touching it up
and measuring it as the art directs.[210] Then I gave it a good
baking, and after that I spread over the whole an even coat[211] of
wax of less than a finger’s thickness, similarly adding wax where
I thought it needed it, or even taking a little away from off the
waxen coat that was over the whole. This method I pursued till I had
completed it with infinite diligence and care.
After this I pounded up some ox bone, or rather the burnt core of ox
horns. It is like a sponge, ignites easily, and is the best bone that
you can get anywhere. With this I beat up half a similar quantity of
gesso of tripoli,[212] and a fourth part of iron filings, & mixed the
three things well together with a moist solution of dung of horses
or kine, which I first passed through a fine sieve with fresh water,
till the latter took the colour of the dung.
The whole formed a composition which I applied to my model with hog
sables, arranging the bristles so that their softer and external ends
formed the end of the sable, and were thus tenderer to work with;
and so gave the whole figure an equal coating of the composition all
over, then I let it dry, and similarly gave it two more coats, each
time letting them dry. These coats were every one about the thickness
of an ordinary table knife’s back. This done, I gave it a coat[213]
of clay about half a finger thick, let it dry, gave it another coat
about a finger thick, let that dry too, and finally gave it a third,
of the same thickness.
FOOTNOTES:
[208] _Bracchi._
[209] _See Cellini’s allusion to this in the ‘Vita.’_
[210] _Misurando come prometta l’arte._
[211] _I interpret this to mean that he made measurements with a view
to regulating the subsequent wax coat which was in the end to be
replaced by the bronze. Brinckman interprets it otherwise; according
to him the meaning would be that because of the shrinkage Cellini
gave the figure another coat of clay, but this appears to me to imply
a misunderstanding of the process. See also, Symonds’ interpretation
of this method in the ‘Vita.’_
[212] _Gesso di tripolo._
[213] _Camicia._
CHAPTER II. HOW THE ABOVE-MENTIONED CLAY IS MADE.
The clay you use is made thus: You take such clay as is used by the
ordnance makers for their moulds. It may be found in many places, but
preferably near by rivers, for there it has a certain sandiness,[214]
still it must not be too sandy, suffice it if it be thin, for the
rich clay is delicate and soft, such as is used for small figures,
cups, plates, and so forth, but not good for our purpose. Also you
will find it in hills and grottoes, particularly round Rome and
Florence, and in France at Paris. The clay from the latter city is
the finest I ever saw; but as a rule the clay from grottoes is better
than that from rivers.
In order to obtain a good result you must let it dry, and sift it
carefully through a rather coarse sieve in order to get rid of any
pebbles or bits of root or of glass, & such-like things. Then you
mix it with cloth frayings, about half as much of the latter as you
have clay; and take note that here is a wondrous mystery of the craft
that has never yet been used by any but me. When the clay and the
cloth frayings are mixed and bathed with water to the consistency of
a dough, you beat the mixture up well with a stout iron rod about two
fingers thick; and, for this is the secret, you let it decompose for
at least four months or more, the longer the better; for then the
cloth frayings rot, and owing to this the clay gets to be like an
unguent. To those who have not had experience of this little trade
secret of mine the clay will appear too fatty, but this particular
kind of fattiness in no wise hinders the accepting of the metal,[215]
indeed it accepts it infinitely better, & the clay holds a hundred
times more firmly so than if it had not rotted. I have used this kind
of clay in ever so many most difficult works, all of which I shall
tell of in their proper place.
FOOTNOTES:
[214] _Alquanto renosa._
[215] _Lo accettare il metallo._
CHAPTER III. ANOTHER METHOD OF CASTING FIGURES IN BRONZE OF LIFE SIZE
OR A LITTLE UNDER.
Model the figure you wish to cast direct in the clay and rag
composition above described. Finish your model most carefully as
regards its proportions and its details of design, in fact just as
you wish to see it completed. When you have finished your figure,
working it part in the fresh & part in the dry clay, as the art may
require, and wishing to cast it in bronze, you give it a covering of
painter’s foil[216] in order to do which you first take a certain
quantity of turps, heat it in a cauldron or pail, and when it is
heated to boiling, streak it very carefully all over the figure with
a hog’s sable, taking heed not to injure a single muscle, vein or
other subtlety, and so very carefully apply your foil. This foil
has to be beaten into very fine sheets such as the painters use in
many places, as for instance on their canvasses for painting coats
of arms; it is well enough known all the world over. Well, you put
this foil over the clay figure, and as you have to make a mould of
gesso over that, you oil the whole figure well first. Were it not
for the foil it would be but ill protected against the humidity
and cohesive[217] power of the gesso, but with the foil it is well
protected. In this way you work to great advantage, for after the
figure is cast in bronze you still have your fine original model
before you; and many youths & able workmen can help you clean the
bronze figure up, while if you have no model to work to, this
cleaning up takes a long time, is little to the poor master’s liking,
and has but a sorry result. This was what happened to me when I made
the Perseus for the most illustrious Duke Cosimo, and which may still
be seen on his Excellency’s piazza. This, which was a figure of more
than five cubits high, was made in the first of the two described
methods; that is to say, it was modelled in the clay composition, &
finished one finger’s thickness under actual size;[218] then it was
well baked, and the coat of wax modelled over it as in the case of
the nymph of Fontainebleau. After this it was cast all in one piece.
In order to remove the core[219] so that the figure might be lighter,
I made through the wax a number of holes in the flanks, shoulders,
and legs, and at such places where I required them; the result of
this was that the core was kept in its place. Moreover, I put over
the wax those unguents which I referred to in the case of the
nymph of Fontainebleau, then the two or three coats of clay, next I
bound it round with the iron of which I shall tell directly, & then
I cast it. This casting was, owing to its size, the most difficult
casting ever made. But because I am now minded to tell of the casting
of a smaller figure, I will not muddle things too much by leaving my
theme. Later on I shall not fail to enter upon a little dissertation
about my Perseus.
[Illustration: The Perseus]
Now I have to repeat, then, that the clay figure must have a kind
of paste spread over it with a very soft paint brush, & little by
little the foil is laid upon it. This paste is made of flour dust,
and prepared in the way shoemakers do it, or the mercers, when they
make barettas & satchels and such like, and you must mind to make it
very fine and thin, and when you have put the foil in little pieces
all over it and the whole figure is covered, you can make your gesso
mould.
There are divers ways of making the gesso moulds. The best, however,
that I have come across and that I mostly use myself, is to make as
many small pieces as when put together would make a complete man,
and that without any undercutting—as for instance feet, hands, head.
These small pieces must be made with great care; and while the gesso
is moist you fit into each of them an iron wire bent double, and
projecting out of the gesso much like a little ring, so as to be
capable of holding a thread through it. Each time that one of these
small pieces is finished it must be tested, and you must see if you
get a good impression from it & if the piece relieves. Then if you
see that the impression relieves without spoiling a single trifle of
your work’s delicacy, you put the piece in its place again, and with
all a good master’s ingenuity take the next piece off it, leaving no
rift whatever in between them such as would scar the work; & so you
go on little by little, making the whole series of pieces, observing
the undercutting and whatever is demanded for the head, hands, feet,
&c. In this manner you carefully make your division right down one
half of the figure, I mean the half, taken lengthwise, coming over
the belly and the breasts down to the hips, and from the bottom of
them to the half of the heels.[220] Mind, however, that with these
small pieces the figure is not entirely covered, but leave a part
of the breasts, a part of the body, a large part of the thighs, and
as much of the legs. You must take care, too, that the pieces be
so placed that they may be fitted together as one, but there must
be no undercutting because over this half figure will have to be
cast a coat[221] of fine gesso more than two fingers thick. Before
doing this, however, you must mind to cover up with a little clay
the iron rings which I told you before were to be put on the small
pieces, so that in putting on the coat they do not hinder it from
being lifted off. After this you carefully paint over with a brush of
olive oil all such parts as shall come in contact with this coat in
order that when the gesso is set the coat may easily relieve. When
you have tried a piece to see if it will relieve, put it back in its
place, and finish the other or back half of the figure in the same
way as I bade you do the front. You must be very careful when you
have finished your mould to take some strong thick cord and bind the
whole figure together from top to bottom, putting a lot of little
wedges of wood in order to tighten the rope yet more and prevent the
gesso from twisting[222] and buckling. In order not to run any risk
of such twisting you keep it thus bound up till all the moisture
has gone from the gesso. When you see it quite dry you unwind the
cord and open the mould, and that is your first mould.[223] This in
small figures may be of two pieces only; when I say small figures
I mean life size or less, these may be made in two pieces; if they
be larger than that you must make them in four pieces, _i.e._, one
piece on each side from the top to the navel, & another on each side
from the navel to the bottom of the figure. In order to fit better
together these pieces must overlap the one upon the other a distance
of about two fingers. This all minutely accomplished, you proceed to
open the mould and lay it back downwards on the ground, that is to
say with the concave sides of it facing upwards, and you take off
one by one all the little pieces sticking to the figure and put them
into the cavities made by them in the mould;[224] at the same time
removing the little bits of clay which you put on the iron rings; and
in every place where the clay has left impressions, bore a hole with
a small gimlet[225] into the mother mould, and attach to each iron
ring a piece of strong cord. This cord you pass through the holes in
the mother mould, and tie each piece up in this manner with a little
splint of wood. When you have thus fitted all your little undercut
pieces into the mother mould,[226] you grease the whole mould with
soft lard, & proceed to give it what is technically termed the
_lasagna_, which is a cake about a good knife’s back thick of wax or
clay or paste.
This is made thus: you take a piece of wood and with the chisels
cut out in it a square cavity the shape of a man’s palm and of the
depth of a good knife’s back, more or less, in accordance with the
thickness your figure is to have. Then you keep squeezing your cake
(or _lasagna_) into this wooden shape, & apply it to the gesso mould
of your figure so as to let one piece touch the other. Then you lay
the two halves together on the ground side by side, and construct
an iron framework which serves as a skeleton for the figure, and
this must be made tortuously and in accordance with the direction
of the legs, arms, torso, & head of the figure. This done, you
take clay beaten together with shavings of cloth—the thin clay of
which I told you before[227]—and little by little fit it round the
skeleton, letting it dry, now by patient waiting, now by holding
it before the fire, till the whole of your mould is filled. Then
you test the two parts by repeatedly applying the one to the other.
When this framework of earth and iron, which is called the kernel,
_nocciolo_, fills the figure so completely as to tally all round with
the _lasagna_, you take it out, bind it round with thin iron wire
from head to foot and give it a good firing. Then you streak it over
with a thin solution made of powdered bone and thin brick dust mixed
with a little of the clay and cloth frayings, and apply it again to
a rather slighter fire, this time so that the solution shall also be
fired, then you take the _lasagna_ out of your mould. You must be
very careful, too, to leave some pieces of the iron skeleton sticking
out in at least four places, for they will keep the kernel from
shifting, and these projections must tally with the gesso mould. When
the _lasagna_ is removed you once more grease the gesso mould with
fat, a little soft bacon fat is best, and it is also well to have it
warm, for then it combines better with the gesso.
Then you make the inlet holes in which you want to pour your wax, and
fit the kernel into the mould; then stand the figure up straight &
make at least four vent holes, two at the feet and two at the hands,
the more you make the surer you will be to fill your figure with wax.
The vent holes you make thus. The first two you place right at the
very bottom of the feet, and it will be better for you to set your
figure on a little eminence in order to do this more easily. You
must take a stout gimlet,[228] and carefully bore a hole with it,
and this is best done if slanting downwards, and see that you leave
no fragments in the mould as you do it. When you have made these
holes, you take a number of canes, which you skilfully bend, & so fit
together that they start from the holes below and turn up straight
alongside the figure, binding one cane to another & all together into
one up towards to the top of the figure. You must be careful, too,
wherever the bits of cane join, and wherever they fit into the holes,
to smear them well round with a little moist clay so as to prevent
the wax from oozing out.
After this you can heat your wax, &, when it is well molten, pour it
in. This process now can be easily effected, however difficult the
pose of the figure may be, if you observe the various little hints
I have given you, & above all give heed to the vent holes at the
base. After you have filled it with wax let it thoroughly cool for
a whole day—if it be summer, say two days. Then undo the bindings
with great care; & loosen all the little bits of string that tie the
pieces together within, and are made for the undercuttings as I so
carefully explained to you before. When you have uncovered the one
half, you may complacently begin to try it from either front or back;
& I tell you this, the fact of your having let the wax stand for that
day or two according to the season of the year, will cause a slight
shrinkage in the wax of about the space of a horse’s hair, and so you
will find it quite easy to remove this first piece from your figure.
Then lay it down, and proceed to do the like to the next piece, & you
will do well to lay both on long narrow benches, so that you can get
underneath them with your hands.
After this you remove from the figure all the pieces of the mould
attached with the bits of string through the iron rings one by one
ever so carefully, and you polish & remove very nicely all the rough
edges that may have been left on the figure by reason of the joinings
of all the different pieces, and in this manner you touch up the
whole. In doing this, moreover, if you are minded to add any subtle
labour or fancy to your work, you are easily able to do it. After
this[229] you fashion in wax, just as you erst made them for the
earthen mould[230] all the vent holes for the bronze casting, & mind
that they all slant downwards to the bottom; later when the figure
has its last & earthen mould on, these vents may easily be turned up
with clay. The method of doing this I shall describe minutely later
as soon as I have shown how all the different coatings[231] from
first to last are applied, the mould bound up and the wax emptied out.
Here all I want to insist on is that the vents must be made to bend
towards the bottom, because, when that is the case, the wax is more
easily melted out; if they were otherwise you would have to turn the
mould up and down, which would give trouble, & you would run risk of
spoiling it. But if you do it as I tell, you are absolutely safe.
Then note this too, it is of the utmost importance that in melting
out the wax your fire be so tempered that the wax does not boil in
the mould, but comes out with the greatest patience. When the wax
is all out give the mould yet another but very moderate firing, in
order to get rid of any moisture that may be left in the mould. Then
you may give it a regular good firing, first casing the mould in a
coat of bricks set one above the other, & at about a three fingers’
distance from the mould; this firing should be of soft wood, such
as elder, lime, beech or twigs. Any green wood, or the wood of the
oak, is to be avoided, and use no charcoal whatever, because all
these fuse the clay and make it become like glass. There are some
earths that do not thus cohere, and such are used in glass & bronze
furnaces. I shall not fail in the proper place to tell you of these,
but at present let me continue my narration of how to prepare our
mould for the casting of the bronze.
Dig a pit near your furnace in front of the plug at the outlet
hole,[232] which pit should be so big as not only to contain your
figure, but also be half a cubit deeper, and in order that you can
give the proper fall, the mouth or inlet hole[233] must be at least a
quarter of a cubit above the head of your figure. So also as in the
case of its depth, the pit should be half a cubit larger in width
than would be needed to hold the mould. Then take the mould out of
the bricks in which you baked it, and when it is cool bind it very
carefully with a rope which should be strong enough to carry it,
then fasten a pulley to a beam in the roof, & the rope through the
pulley, and see that you provide a windlass sufficiently strong to
lift your figure. As I don’t want to omit certain little details,
which may be well learnt from experience, I may mention that when I
made my Perseus, for that the work was so very large, I lowered it
into the pit with two windlasses, which were weighted with more than
2,000 lbs., but a small figure of three cubits would not need more
than one. ’Tis true you might do without any windlass at all for the
latter, but that would be very risky, because it might tend to move
the kernel of the mould, that is the core[234] or inner block, or
again it might knock the shell[235] outside it. The windlass obviates
this danger. And so you very very gently hoist the figure up, & move
it to the mouth of the pit, & with equal care you unwind the windlass
and lower it to the bottom.
When the figure is standing in position, with the inlet hole[233] in
a line with the plugs[236] at the outlet hole,[232] the first thing
you have to do is to fit on to the vent holes certain tubes of baked
clay such as are used for water-pipes. Of these there are plenty to
be got in Florence, so that I was provided, and I used some of them
bent, & those for the bottom pieces, and in all such instances when
the vents were turned downwards; and fitting one tube on to another,
I brought them into one straight line upwards.
This done, you take the earth you dug out of the trench and sift it
well; then mix it with sand, which, however, ought not to be too
soft, with this mixture you fill up the pit. The mixture of sand
& earth it may be observed need only surround the figure to the
extent of a quarter of a cubit, for the rest, the plain unsifted
earth as you dug it out of the trench, will suffice to fill up the
remainder of the cavity. When the earth has been piled in to the
extent of about one-third of a cubit, you go into the pit with two
rammers,[237] which are a kind of wooden instrument three cubits long
& about a quarter of a cubit broad at the bottom. And with these you
pound the earth and weld it well together. In doing this you must
take great care in no way to knock at the mould, it will be quite
sufficient if you come within four fingers of it, and instead of
the rammers, press it with your feet, still take great care not to
shake the mould. This ramming in you will repeat every time you have
shovelled another third of a cubit of earth into the pit. Every time,
too, that the earth fills up to the level of the top of the vents,
take another of the terra cotta pipes and add it on, binding the
juncture round well with a little clean tow in order to prevent the
earth getting into the vents, for that would stop the passage of air
and so hinder your figure from coming. In this way, taking heed of
the vents as you fill in the earth, you pass from base to legs, from
legs to flanks, from flanks to arms, till at last you get earth and
vents on a level with the top of your pit. Then you proceed to make
the passage[238] down which the bronze is to flow. Also you must take
care that as soon as you begin putting your figure into the trench,
you begin at the same time to fill your furnace with the bronze
and heat it, so that your mould shall not get damp from too long
standing. All these things if they be not observed ofttimes prevent
the mould from filling.
When the pit is filled up to the mouth of the main entrance[239]
where the bronze is to be poured in, and also having allowed for the
necessary fall from the mouth of the plug[240] whence the bronze
is to issue from the furnace, & having carried up all the vents as
described, you keep both them and the mouth of the main entrance
carefully plugged with a little tow. Then you take a lot of square
tiles and make a pavement of them round the vents. As there will be
more than one entrance channel for your bronze, you must take note
that the flooring in question comes right up to the ingress holes
of the bronze. Then you take bits of hard dry bricks broken up into
pieces of three fingers or more in thickness, according to your
cunning master’s discretion and according to the fall your bronze may
need, & then these bricks you plaster together with liquid clay and
cloth shavings in lieu of mortar, on the top of your flooring. Note
further, that of these same bricks you construct a channel from the
wall of your furnace and running right round the ingress holes of
your figure.
Then you take bricks, baked or unbaked (the latter are better, though
there’s not much difference)[241] and wall up the channel to the
requisite height, the thickness of a brick wall will suffice. You
construct it by laying brick upon brick & making the height of the
wall equal the width of the channel.[242] When you have carefully
joined together with your moist clay instead of mortar all the cracks
through which the bronze might ooze out, you remove the tow plugs in
the ingress holes of the bronze, and in their stead fit some easily
removable stops of moist clay made so that you can take them out
without difficulty, for you have almost immediately to bring glowing
coals into your channel, and with these you cover all the parts that
have been walled up with clay till they are well dried, and the fire
must be renewed several times till they are not only well-dried but
baked.
When all this is accomplished, and your metal meanwhile has got
well fused, carefully blow with the bellows all the ash and cinders
out of the channel, till none remains to hinder the passage of the
metal; then take out all the plugs that close the vent holes, and
the earthen stoppers in the ingress holes, & throw some two or three
tallow candles, under one pound in weight, into the channel. Hereupon
run to the mouth of your furnace and refresh it with a certain
quantity of pewter of rather more than the ordinary alloy, _i.e._,
half a pound per cent. (_i.e._, of bronze)[243] more than what you
have hitherto used. When this has been very rapidly done, heap up
more and more fire of green wood in your furnace, and then with your
iron crook (_mandriano_) for thus the instrument is called, boldly
strike away the plug of the furnace, & let the bronze run; gently at
first, holding a point of the iron crook in the mouth of the plug,
till a certain quantity of the metal has run forth, & its first fury
be spent, for if you did not do this you might run the risk of your
mould being stopped up with wind. Then you can remove the iron crook
from the mouth of the plug and let all the bronze go till the furnace
be emptied. To this end it is necessary to have a man standing at
each of the furnace mouths, who, with the scraping iron[244] which
is used in the craft, drives the bronze towards the outlet, until all
is cleared out. Such of the flowing metal as is still left after your
mould is filled you dam by means of throwing on to it with a shovel
some of the earth you erstwhile dug out of the trench. That is how
you complete your mould.
Not to be omitted are divers and terrible mishaps that occur from
time to time, and often bring to nought all the poor master’s pains.
So ’tis a wise thing to profit in good time by the experience of
others. Ofttimes we figure casters call in the help of ordnance
founders[245] to aid us, but the most terrible misfortunes not
infrequently occur owing to their insufficient experience and want
of care, and all our labour is lost. Just such a thing very nearly
happened to me when I was casting my Perseus, for, calling to aid
some of those fellows, I found them so absolutely devoid of sense
that in their stupidity they all swore my mould was spoilt, and that
there was no means of righting it, and all this thanks to the muddle
they themselves had made with my metal.[246] The statue was more than
five cubits high & its pose was a difficult one, for in its left hand
it held raised aloft the head of Medusa, in the hair of which was
much rich detail of serpents; while the right hand was held behind in
a vigorous action, & the left leg was bent. All this variety of limbs
made the casting most difficult, and for this reason I was ever so
keen to get it good, and also because it would be the first big work
I had produced in Italy, my fatherland, & the veritable school of all
the arts. So I was moved to even greater pains and diligence than
I had before used to complete my figure well. So, therefore, I set
to making a great number of air vents, and ever so many flowing-in
mouths that all diverged from one main one, the which ran down at the
back of the figure from the height of the head down to both heels and
spreading out a bit at the calves. All these little hints are part
of the craft, and in this manner did I practise it when I wrought
in France. As I had to do almost everything with my own hand, owing
to the intense bodily fatigue to which I was subjected a violent
fever seized upon me. I struggled against it for many hours, but
in the end it floored me, and I was brought to bed. As I had those
different masters of ordnance and statuary founders working for me,
I explained to them before I laid me down, exactly the methods I had
begun, and how these were now perfectly easy to understand, as more
than half the figure was already covered, & the greater part of the
difficulties surmounted. All that they had to do was to follow my
instructions in detail, and that appeared easy enough, so, being
utterly incapable of holding out any longer, I flung myself on my
couch.
Meantime the men worked at my furnace which I had so well prepared
and in which the bronze was nearly molten[247] and ready for
completing. Now they had a good six hours’ work still to employ them
in order to fulfil all my instructions in proper sequence, because
they were not quite skilled in the technique of the craft, and
because my methods were different from those they usually employed.
Well, instead of doing what they were told they began larking about,
neglected the furnace so that the metal commenced to curdle, or, as
it is called in the craft, to cake, _migliaccio_ they call it in
their lingo. Nary a one knew a remedy for this blunder, for in a
round furnace like this one the action of the fire upon the metal is
from above, were it from below it would be easy enough to heat the
curdled metal again; so not one of them knew a remedy. Then as I lay
there prostrate on my bed with fever, one of them in whom I had a
little more confidence than the rest, came to me, and speaking very
gently, said: ‘Benvenuto, resign yourself to the worst, the furnace
has been ill prepared,[248] a cake has formed on the metal.’
Then I turned myself toward him and had all the other craftsmen
summoned in whom I put any confidence, and asked them if they knew
any remedy. Whereupon these precious fine fellows said there was no
other remedy but to break up the furnace, & in so doing, as the mould
was buried six cubits in the ground, they could not see (they said)
how the mould could help being spoiled. For even if I tried to dig up
the ground round it, which had been plugged fast, there were so many
ingress holes & vents that it was dead certain to be spoiled. That,
forsooth, was the only remedy they had!
Now, gentle reader, picture to yourself my state,—I in all my ills &
sickness—this new trouble thrust upon me—all my honour at stake—why I
felt the keenest grief that ever man could imagine! But this was no
time to give way to grief. Suddenly, as in a frenzy, my old inborn
daring came upon me; it’s not a thing one can learn, this! it’s in a
man’s nature! Furiously I leapt from my bed & literally frightened
away that grievous fever with the biting words I shouted at those
fellows.
‘Oh you good-for-nothings! who not only know nought, but have brought
to nought all my splendid labours, at least keep your heads on your
shoulders now and obey me; for from my knowledge of the craft I can
bring to life what you have given up for dead, if only the sickness
that is upon me shall not crush out my body’s vigour.’ Thus hounding
them on I ran with them into the workshop, and in one go ordered
six of them to different duties. First I bade one of them fetch me a
load of dry oak that was stacked opposite the house of Capretta, the
butcher; & as soon as this came I began throwing it into the furnace
several pieces at a time. Now, though I’ve said it once before—as
it’s so very important I’m going to tell it you again, & it’s this:
in bronze furnaces the only woods you use are elder, willow, and
pine, for all these are soft woods; in this particular instance,
however, I used oak, because I wanted the greatest possible heat,
and thus the metal began to move at once. To two others I bade with
long iron rods to keep poking into the furnace mouths because it was
storming with wind, and raining cats and dogs, & wind and rain was
blowing into my furnace; by these means I showed them how to stave
off wind & rain. Two others I set to work to quench the fire, because
a part of the workshop had caught alight, and several great wooden
windows were blazing like the devil, so that I was in terror lest
the whole roof should be aflame, so tremendous was the fire. With
the others, and there were plenty of them, I set to work clearing
the channels, through which the metal was to run, and to opening all
the vent holes. Scarce was this done when, all on a sudden, just
as the work was being completed, owing to the terrific heat of the
burning oak, the whole cap of the furnace was blown up into the air,
and the metal began to well over on all sides; they stood in utter
astonishment, all of them,—for they had obeyed me fearsomely—to see
the caked metal thus again liquified. The strength of the fire,
however, had consumed all the tin alloy, so I ordered to be thrown in
a thick pig of fine pewter. When I saw this was of no avail, and that
by God’s grace the metal was already beginning to flow & to spread
itself on the sides of the furnace, I ordered two others to run into
my house and fetch hither all my pewter plates and dishes, 200 lbs.
weight in all, and threw them in bit by bit. Then I made another take
iron crooks and strike out first one & then the second of the plugs,
which were very hard. Then, as the metal began to flow through the
channels, I, little by little, threw the thin pewter plates into it,
which, owing to the immense heat, combined with the other pewter,
so that my mould was soon filled. Seeing all this mass of metal run
in so well without any bubbling or even a single hitch, I concluded
that all my vents were doing their work. The amount of metal left
over just corresponded exactly to the extra quantity thrown in, so
that my mould was completely filled. When this was accomplished I
gave thanks to God, and turning to the lot of them, said: ‘D’ye see
how everything has its remedy?’ Spite of the pain such was my delight
that I felt no more fatigue; the fever just went to the devil, & I
sat down to eat and drink with a light heart, together with all the
lot of them, and everyone marvelled thereat.
Once, too, in France, when serving King Francis, & being anxious
to cast a lunette of over six cubits in diameter, and containing
numbers of figures and animals, and other things, much the same
occurred owing to a like blundering of my assistants. For although
the founders in those parts, especially in & around Lutezia, where
they turn out more of it than in any other place under the sun,
are safer in their technique than any others, still, as they are
deficient in the fundamental principles of the art, they lose
their heads and give all up in despair when anything exceptional
occurs. I anticipated a similar accident to that which I have just
described with my Perseus on another eventful occasion; for, though
the incidents were very different, there happened to be one thing
that differed from customary methods.[249] My people were all in
despair, and even I myself was much troubled at seeing them so, but
with my wonted pluck, and owing to my thorough knowledge of the
art I was here again able to bring a dead horse to life.[250] When
those ancient masters of the art (who were present on that occasion)
saw this they blessed the day and the hour that they made my
acquaintance; though I, who was their pupil, knew well that it really
depended upon what I had learnt from them. They worked according to
tradition,[251] this tradition I mastered; and I will gladly describe
the rule on which it was based, and how this rule stood me in stead.
But let us return somewhat in order to continue the course of our
narration. For though we have digressed a bit we have not diverged
from the method of our subject, and can easily return to it. We
have shown how the mould is made and the casting done, and we have
evidenced this with a statue about three cubits in size; there yet
remains another method, in itself much easier, but not so safe as the
above-mentioned one. The point of this is that instead of making the
core[252] of your figure in clay, you make it of gesso mixed with
burnt bone and pounded brick. Provided the gesso be of good quality
this method is more easy to practise, because instead of applying one
coat after another, as you do in the clay method, you can make the
gesso liquid; that is to say, having combined the ingredients just
stated, one portion of gesso & an equal portion of bone and brick,
you make a sort of paste of it which you pour into the mould over the
solution (_lasagna_) and which soon sets.
After this, having taken off the mould,[253] you bind the core well
round with iron wire, and cover this very carefully with a similar
coat of paste, only rather more liquid. This done, the core is well
baked in the same way as the earthen one was in the previous method,
and the wax poured over it into the mould just as described above.
When the mould is removed the wax is cleaned round and the air vents
arranged also just as before described, then you case the whole over
with a shell of gesso also as before. When this shell is completed to
the thickness of about two-and-a-half fingers, you bind it all round
with the same bands of iron two fingers wide, & then once again cover
it all over with another coat of gesso.
After this the figure is placed in a furnace made entirely of bricks,
& so arranged that when the fire is lighted the wax can be melted out
into a receptacle set in a hole in the ground beneath the furnace,
the wax flowing through the air vents, and these vents arranged in
the manner above stated. When the wax is out you make up a good fire
of wood and charcoal till the outer mould[254] of your figure is well
baked, but you may take note that the gesso does not need near so
strong a fire as the clay. True it is that the gesso in our part of
Tuscany does not lend itself so well to works of this nature as that
of Mantua, Milan and France. Several very able youths who have worked
for his Excellency the Duke of Florence, have been taken in not once
but two or three times, owing to the delusion that ours was the best
way of making gesso. The most excellent Duke, who was ever a lover of
thoroughness, very thoughtfully had patience with them, but our young
men, unacquainted with the difference between the one gesso and the
other, stuck to their own method, & remained unenlightened. From this
you may take note that when a master wants to do a work he should
make trial, not only of his clays and his gessos, but of all the
things he proposes to use. In this way alone will he get credit by
his work, and in no other way. In this connection I may make mention
of the sorts of lime I have seen in Rome, in France, and in other
parts of the world. The lime that keeps longest in the slacked state
is the best & makes the firmest composition, but our Florentine lime
ought to be used immediately after slacking; if this is done it makes
the best lime and the firmest composition in the world, but it loses
its virtue if left standing; with the foreign lime, however, the
reverse obtains.
FOOTNOTES:
[216] _Stagnuolo_, i.e., _tinfoil_.
[217] _Forza._
[218] _E finito magro in circa un dito._
[219] _L’anima_, _or internal block_.
[220] _E da basso in sino alla metà dei talloni._
[221] _Camicia._
[222] _Torce._
[223] _Che viene a essere quella prima camicia._
[224] _Or ‘mother mould’ as the sculptors would call it._
[225] _Succhiellino di tutti quei pezzi che ti tenevano i sotto
squadri._
[226] _Da poi che tu arai vestito tutta la tua camicia._
[227] _Page 113._
[228] _Succhielletto._
[229] _E di poi che tu ti sei resoluto._
[230] _Tonaca._
[231] _Loti._
[232] _Dinanzi alla spina._
[233] _Bocca._
[234] _Anima._
[235] _Spoglia._
[236] _Spine._
[237] _Mazzapicchi._
[238] _Via._
[239] _Bocca principale._
[240] _Bocca della spina_, i.e., _the egress channel_.
[241] _Con tutto ci sia poco differenzia._
[242] _Accomodandoli intorno al tuo canale tanto quanto viene alto._
[243] _E rinfrescala con una certa quantita di stagno di piu della
lega ordinaria, la quale vuole essere circa una mezza libbra per
cento di piu della lega che vi arai messa._ _Professor Roberts-Austen
is of opinion that this implies an additional half-pound of pewter
for every 100 lbs. of bronze you have in the furnace. If it is
not so, should the word ‘pewter’ be translated ‘tin’? that is the
lead-tin alloy should contain half-pound more tin (than is usual) in
every 100 lbs._
[244] _I rastiatoi._ _Brinckman has ‘kratzeisen.’_
[245] _Maestri d’artiglierie._ _See above._
[246] _See the account of this in the ‘Vita,’ p. 420 and onwards._
[247] _Condotto il mio bronzo in bagno._
[248] _Stata a disagio ei s’e fatto un migliaccio._
[249] _Una cosa la quale usciva di quella ordinaria praticaccia._
[250] _Un morto_: _our workshop slang of the ‘dead horse’ would seem
to meet Cellini’s meaning here_.
[251] _Una continova pratica._
[252] _Nocciolo._
[253] _Di poi sciolto il suo cavo._
[254] _Tonaca._
CHAPTER IV. HOW TO CONSTRUCT FURNACES FOR CASTING BRONZE, WHETHER FOR
STATUES, ORDNANCE, OR OTHER SUCH-LIKE THINGS.
Furnaces for casting bronze have to be made by each master according
as the special needs of his piece of work require it. Inasmuch as at
the beginning of my book I promised always to illustrate what I was
describing by work of my own, I will do so with furnaces also. When
working for good King Francis, I had to make a great bronze gate,
for which a special furnace had to be constructed. This I did in
my own castle, given to me in royal letters patent by his Majesty,
whom I served most loyally for four years; and these letters patent
I brought back with me to Florence, if only to show in Italy & my
native land what great treasures may not be acquired, and how good it
is after having been trained in Italy to leave home, and reap such
useful & honourable fruits abroad.
Well, then, having to make a furnace, this was the way I did it. The
hollow within was three Florentine cubits wide, which made it about
nine cubits in circumference, the height of the vault of the furnace
was equal in size and shape to the half circle of the bed.[255] To
this bed, most gentle reader, I want you to give special attention;
I do not intend making a drawing of it, because I have seen so many
architectural drawings altered and spoiled, so I shall content myself
with words only to convey what I mean, and such as I trust may
suffice.[256] In a furnace of this nature, the bed, _i.e._ the place
where the metal is put, must be constructed with a fall, just as I
made the little one in question. The total fall to the bottom of the
bed should be about one-sixth of a cubit, and see that it is shaped
in the manner of the streets you go a-walking in that have in the
middle of them what in Tuscany we call a _rigaguolo_ or gulley; this
gulley runs direct to the mouth of the outlet hole out of which the
metal is to flow. The shoulders[257] of the gulley should slope up
ever so gently, till they come to within about one-third of a cubit
at the two gates[258] where you put the bronze. This third you can
increase or not by one-sixteenth of a cubit according to whether you
wish to increase or decrease the depth of your furnace. The third
door, about which you need not be so particular, is the one through
which the fire enters, &, as it is not brought into direct connection
with the bronze, it need only be blocked with a little mound of
earth about three fingers high. The bed of your furnace should be of
bricks, specially constructed, they should be small, but bigger at
one end than the other, & measuring one-sixth of a cubit in either
direction; by far the best are those used for glass furnaces, which
are made much in the same way as other bricks. Some have shaped
their bricks with a cutting instrument[259] as they went along, but
I find, after having tried one way & another, that the best results
can be obtained by having them all the same size. Care should be
taken to make the bricks of a clay that does not yield in the fire;
in my native city of Florence we use a kind of white clay, said to
come from Monte Carlo, and all our glass furnaces were constructed
with it. In France I found another and ever so much better way. The
bricks are one-fourth of a cubit long, & the same width as the above,
they call them _ciment_, and they make them out of crucibles used in
founderies, of which there are no end in those parts. But your master
has got to accommodate himself to the conditions of workmanship in
every place he works in. When your bricks are thus made, they must
when quite dry, be carefully worked over with iron tools, somewhat in
the nature of axes or large chisels made specially for the purpose,
so as to make them cohere as well as possible. After this they are
gradually cemented with quarry stones[260] to the thickness of
about half a cubit, so that you get an absolutely firm floor for
your furnace. These quarry stones should be at least one-third of a
cubit in size, and ever so firmly united. The first or lower part
of a furnace of this description should be, in diameter two-thirds
of a cubit larger than the upper portion. Both must be walled with
ordinary lime, provided it be good, and after the lower, you proceed
to wall the upper, the portion in which the bronze has to be placed.
Having fashioned your bricks out of the fire-resisting earth just
referred to, you take some of this earth, and make a paste of it as
you would of lime, minding however, that it is well sifted and clean,
and with it wall the whole base of your furnace. I insist again upon
the need of your working over the bricks with your chisels carefully,
& smoothing them well, so that they fit together absolutely, and in
thus fitting them, you must make the jointings as thin as possible.
Sometimes it happens, owing to some little negligence on the
master’s part, if he mix the liquid earth too coarsely, that the
tiniest little cracks form in the drying. These cracks, however small
they be, are mighty dangerous, & may cause incalculable mischief;
for, when the bronze grows liquid, such is its terrific force, that
it penetrates into them, be they never so small, and I myself have
seen the whole thing burst up owing to this.[261] But when due care
is observed, & the walling made with the finest possible liquid
earth, there is no need for cracks, your bronze may be safely melted,
and all your work come scatheless from the furnace.
After the bed you build up the vault with similar bricks in the same
way, in doing which you must remember, as I said before, to make your
two openings for putting in the bronze; two-thirds of a cubit wide
and three-quarters of a cubit high will suffice them, and they must
be semi-circular atop. There must also be a third opening two-thirds
of a cubit wide and one cubit high for the fire to enter in at, so
that the flame, as is its wont, may curl powerfully to the top of the
vault, and thence curl down again,[262] and with great heat play upon
the metal, & melt it rapidly. Four air vents have to be distributed
round the spring of the top of the furnace vault.[263]
In one of the vault bricks, at the lower end of the channel, a mouth
must be made much like the air vents, & big enough for you to put
in two fingers quite comfortably. The air vent too must be the same
size. This mouth, out of which the bronze is to flow, must be made
from one brick; & mind that it is a good sound one. The said brick,
too, must, moreover, be built into its place just as the others were,
and helping with them to gradually lock in the vault at the top. So
that you don’t think me inaccurate, I would have you know that this
mouth is called _bocca della spina_, the mouth of the plug; it must
be half a finger wider inside than out, and before you pour out the
metal you keep it stopped with an iron stopper luted with a little
ash made into a kind of paste. Then you take a quarry stone about
half a cubit square & make a hole through the middle of it. This hole
is to be exactly the size of the mouth just made in the brick, that
is to say on the side adjoining the brick, but on the other side,
the side away from the furnace, it is to be six times as big, and it
should be cleaned off[264] outside. Then you join it to the brickwork
wall of the furnace with the earth, & in the manner mentioned above;
but because the base and sides of the furnace have also to be
considered, as I said before, you cement these with good ordinary
lime. Similarly all the quarry stones must be the same size as the
first piece, and be attached to the walling in the same manner, &
they must be carried up to the height of the vault, but straight; so
that in the event of any accident happening to the vault, for to that
the craft is often liable, it may be mended or put in order. When
you have walled your furnace round in this way you must be careful
to join at the shoulders[265] of the principal orifice, by which
the flame enters,[266] a hearth two-thirds of a cubit square & two
cubits deep, measured from the bottom of this hole of the hearth.
In this cavity you put six or seven iron bars, these are about two
fingers thick, & of such length as to project beyond the sides of
the hole about four fingers each way, and they rest upon pins set at
intervals of about three fingers apart. This hearth made over the
fire bars is constructed in just the same way, & with just the same
bricks, and cemented with just the same mortar as was the furnace;
it must stand from the ground to about the middle of the hole where
the fire enters the fire bridge, and the part above this point must
be narrowed to one-eighth of a cubit. Straight through this hole the
wood is put. Under the grating a trench must be dug, & five or six
cubits long, in the direction in which the draught is to pass through
the grating into the hearth. Care must be taken that the draught
only blows in one way, and that long-ways. We craftsmen call this
trench _bracciaiuola_, the ash-pit, because all the ashes fall into
it. How long the fire is to be kept up must be a matter of judgment;
sometimes the master may have, owing to work he has to do on his
mould, to keep it up for quite four or six hours. When the wood logs
are burnt through, they fall into a great pile below the grating. And
sometimes they heap up in such a way as to obstruct the force of the
draught through the hearth, that it cannot do its work; heed must be
taken then, that when the pile begins to grow big, the ashes must be
raked asunder from time to time. To do this, you must have what we
call a _rastrello_ or rake, which you make as follows. You take a
piece of iron half a cubit long and one-eighth of a cubit thick; on
to the middle of this piece and at the upper and thicker side of it
you weld an iron rod two fingers thick and two cubits long, at the
other end of this is fashioned a ferule,[267] into which is fitted a
wooden handle at least four cubits long.
Take heed, too, that when your whole furnace is duly made as above
directed, you gird it round with two stout iron bands, the one round
near the base, the other about one-third of a cubit higher up; the
thicker and stouter these hoops are, the better, for I know by the
experience of the casting of my Perseus how terrific the might of
the fire is. The opening of the hearth through which the wood is put
must be kept closed. The covering must be made in the form of an iron
spade, of such a size as shall well cover the opening, and to this
spade a handle of such convenient length that when, now and again,
you have to manipulate it for putting on fresh wood or otherwise, you
don’t burn yourself. It stands to reason that before all these things
are accomplished, the metal has already been put in the furnace, &
it must be stacked up in such a manner as to admit of flames playing
easily through it, for this will make the working of your furnace
much more effective.
Know, too, gentle reader, what up to now I have forgotten to tell
you, that when with due care your furnace is made, you must, before
putting the metal into it, heat it well through for a space of
twenty-four hours; for if you do not do this, you will not get the
metal to melt, nay rather will it stiffen,[268] and certain fumes
will result from the damp earth that will so impede your work that
it may be eight days before your metal begins to flow. That is what
happened to me in Paris. I had made a little furnace and had put my
trust in a very excellent old fellow, quite the best of his craft and
about eighty years of age; but he hadn’t dried the furnace properly,
and, sure enough, just as it was on the point of melting, & the fire
at its fiercest, out came these earth fumes. When the old worthy
saw that for all his heeding the metal was stiffening, he got into
such a stew, the poor old chap, that what with his mighty exertions
to overcome the difficulty, he fell flat down, and I took him for
certain dead. Howbeit I had a great beaker of the choicest wine
brought him, & since there was no such great risk in leaving the work
as there was in the case of my Perseus; since, too, I served that
most admirable of kings, and thus had not to bother so much about
the peddling trivialities of making it pay, for however big it was
it never mattered with him—I mixed a large bumper of wine for the
old man, who was groaning away like anything, and I bade him most
winning-wise to drink, & I stretched out my hand to him and said:
‘Drink, my father, for in yonder furnace has entered in a devil,
who is making all the mischief, and, look you, we’ll just let him
bide there a couple of days, till he gets jolly well bored, and then
will we, you and I together, in the space of a three hours’ firing
make this metal run like so much butter, & without any exertion
at all.’ The old fellow drank, & then I brought him some little
dainties to eat, meat pasties they were, nicely peppered, and I made
him take down four full goblets of wine. He was a man quite out of
the ordinary, this, and a most lovable old thing, and what with my
caresses and the virtue of the wine, I found him soon moaning away as
much with joy as he had moaned before with grief. When the appointed
day came the fumes had duly evaporated, the furnace was quite ready
and well heated, & in two hours we cast 1500 lbs. of metal, with
which I finished certain portions that were left of my lunette of
Fontainebleau. And that is why I insist upon your well heating the
furnace, and also upon making two little quarry stone doors[269] at
the furnace openings, and you make in each of them two holes one and
a half fingers wide respectively, and four fingers apart from each
other, and these holes serve for the insertion of an iron fork made
specially to fit into them, with which now and again, as need occurs,
you may open & shut the doors.
Remember, too, that each time new metal is to be put into the furnace
it must be first put up against the doors[270] till it becomes red
hot, for if you put it in too soon with the other metal already in,
you run the risk of cooling the latter, & so caking it,[271] much as
before referred to. Hence the very greatest care must be taken on
that point.
In Paris have I seen craftsmen cast the most wonderful things
imaginable, and also make equally wonderful blunders. And this is
due to the fact that technical skill[272] serves you up to a certain
point, but in some accident, for instance, you need the deeper
knowledge of the principles of the art that leaves technical skill on
one side, as I have evidenced to you above.
Indeed I may add that I have seen 100,000 lbs. of metal cast at one
time with so much ease that I marvelled at it, so great was the
technical skill with which it was done; at another time I saw a
little error made that might easily have been remedied. I stood &
watched whether they knew how to put it right, and I saw them throw
it up, work and all, and so lose hundreds of scudi. Willingly would
I have shown them what the remedy was, but their presumption was so
huge that had they not known how to put my remedy into practice, they
would have been quite capable of saying that I myself was the cause
of all the ruin. So I stood mum and grew wise at their cost.
Gentle reader, let that suffice about furnaces and bronze casting,
and let us now turn to other branches of the art.
* * * * *
[_It is interesting to note that Biringoccio, a professed
metallurgist, and a contemporary of Cellini, describing the
reverberatory furnace_ (reverbero) _in his celebrated metallurgical
treatise ‘della Pirotechnica,’ 1540 (see above, p. 106), the
first accurate treatise of its kind, gives fewer details than
Cellini; he gives, however, diagrams which are very precious.
Cellini’s decision not to give diagrams is much to be regretted.
Biringoccio has, however, the following among other drawings of
reverberatories. It serves to show what Cellini’s furnaces would have
been in sectional plan. The letters are mine. It will be observed
that no chimney is shown._]
[Illustration: Biringoccio’s Furnace from the ‘Pirotechnica’
A. FIRE BARS WITH ASH PIT UNDER.
B. FURNACE BED.
C. FIRE DOOR.
D. FIRE BRIDGE.]
FOOTNOTES:
[255] _L’altezza della volta di detta fornace si era il mezzo tondo
della pianta della sua rotondita._
[256] _See note, p. 133._
[257] _Spalle._
[258] _Porte._
[259] _Literally, a knife._
[260] _Pietre morte._
[261] _Levato il fondo in capo_: _perhaps better rendered as the base
blown up to the top_.
[262] _In modern language, reverberate._
[263] _Dove la muove._
[264] _Pulitamente sbavato_: _perhaps, well rounded off_.
[265] _Spalle._
[266] _That is what would now be called the fire bridge._
[267] _Gorbia._
[268] _Agghiada._
[269] _Sportelletti._
[270] _In su li sportelletti._
[271] _Fare un migliaccio._
[272] _La pratica._
CHAPTER V. HOW TO CARVE STATUES OR INTAGLIOS, OR OTHER WORKS, SUCH AS
DIVERS BEASTS, IN MARBLE OR OTHER STONES.
There are many kinds of white marble, & since those of Greece are the
most desired,[273] and the loveliest, let us consider them first.
And well may I speak, for I spent some twenty years in the wondrous
city of Rome, and while there, though I gave my attention to the
craft of the goldsmith, I always had a desire to do some great works
in marble; & I worked along of some of the first sculptors that
lived in those days; and among them that I knew best was our great
Michaelangelo Buonaroti, the Florentine, the man that wrought better
in marble than any other ever known. Of the reason of this I shall
duly speak to you in its place.
Let us tell, then, in the same way as we did before in other matters,
of the qualities of marbles. I have seen five or more different sorts
of marble. The first of these has a very coarse grain,[274] and in
the grain appear certain bright points running close along side of
each other. This marble is the most difficult of all to work, because
it is the hardest; it is particularly difficult to fashion the more
delicate forms in it without the chisel damaging or cracking them;
if you do manage, though after much effort, to bring them off in
this stone, they look lovely. I have found that the grain gradually
softens through the five different sorts above-mentioned, & the
softest of all I have found verging in colour to a delicate flesh
tint rather than a white. This sort is the most cohesive, the most
beautiful and the tenderest marble in the world to work in.
FOOTNOTES:
[273] _Piu orientali._
[274] _Grana grossissima._
[Illustration: The Crucifix in the Escurial]
CHAPTER VI. OF CARRARA MARBLES.
These marbles are again of several different sorts. Some are
coarse-grained with plenty of stains,[275] and spotted with black;
these are very difficult to work in because the particular kind of
stains they have in them eats into the workman’s chisels. ’Tis bad
luck to him if he happens on one of such stained blocks; for many
times they deceive you with a lovely surface outside, while within
are all these blots. At Carrara and in the mountains round are many
different quarries, and here our great Michaelangelo came himself and
spent much time and labour in choosing the quarry from which came all
the great statues of his hand in the sacristy of St. Lorenzo, that he
made for Pope Clement. Let us discuss this marble a bit.
Just as I kept my promise in dealing with the other branches of the
art, of illustrating from my own notable works, so will I do likewise
with this most noble art of sculpture. Indeed I have always held it
to be most wondrous and beautiful, and, what is more, a good deal
easier than any of the others; and so I decided to set my hand to
a piece of work such as no man before had ever done. The work in
question was the Crucified in marble. I fashioned Him in life size,
of noble proportions, & set him upon a cross of black marble; this
likewise was of Carrara, & is a very difficult marble to work by
reason of its being so hard and brittle.
I destined this work for a tomb for myself; and I comforted myself
with the reflection that even if the work didn’t quite succeed, at
least the intention was good; but so great was the determination that
I put into the work, that what with all my previous careful studies,
I overcame all the difficulties, and satisfied everybody. So, though
of course[276] I have done lots of other works of this kind, I may
content myself with instancing this one alone in illustration of
marble.
To succeed with a figure in marble the art requires a good craftsman
first to set up a little model about two palms high, and in this
model he carefully thinks out the pose, making his figure draped or
nude as the case may be. After this he makes a second model of the
size his marble is to be; & if he wants it to be particularly good
he must finish the large model much more carefully than the small
one. If, however, he be pressed for time, or if it be the will of his
patron who needs the work in a hurry, it will suffice if he complete
his big model in the manner of a good sketch, for this may be quickly
done, whereas the working out in marble takes a long time. True it is
that many strong men have gone straight for the marble with all the
fury of the chisel, preferring to work merely from a small and well
designed model, but, notwithstanding, they have been less satisfied
with their final piece than they would have been in working from a
full size model. This was noticeable in the case of our Donatello,
who was a very great man, and even with the wondrous Michaelangelo,
who worked in both ways. But it is perfectly well known that when
his fine genius felt the insufficiency of small models, he set to
work with the greatest humbleness to make models of the size of his
marble; and this have we seen with our own eyes in the Sacristy of
St. Lorenzo. When you are satisfied with your model you draw the
principal views of your statue on to the stone, and mind it be well
drawn, for if not you may miscut your block. The best method I ever
saw was the one that Michaelangelo used; when you have drawn on your
principal view you begin to chisel it round as if you wanted to work
a half relief, and thus gradually it comes to be cut out. The best
chisels for doing this are those that have got, I might say, very
fine points, but the handles of which are at least as small as the
little finger. With this chisel, _subbia_, you approach to within at
least half a finger of what is called the _penultima pelle_, the last
skin but one; then you take a chisel, _scarpello_, with a notch in
the middle of it,[277] and carry on the work further till it be ready
for the file, _lima_, & this file again is called the _lima raspa_,
or roughing file, or occasionally _scuffina_. There are ever so many
sorts of this tool; there is the blade-shaped file, the semi-circular
file, and others of varying sizes, five or six of them, from such as
are two fingers thick to such as are the thickness of a very slender
penholder. Stone borers, _trapani_, too, may be employed wherever
you have to undercut any difficult piece of drapery, or any pose of
the figure that stands free. These borers are of two kinds, one that
you turn by means of a thong and a handle with a hole through it;
with this you can do all the more delicate and minute interstices in
hair or drapery; the other is larger and called the _trapano apetto_,
which you use in those parts for which the first is inapplicable.
When the chisels, whether _subbie_ or _scarpelli_, the files, and the
borers have all done their work to the due completing of your figure,
you proceed to polish the surface with a fine white, close-grained
pumice stone. I must not omit to say for the guidance of those who
are unskilled in working marble, that they may strike boldly in with
their _subbie_; for the more delicate _subbia_, provided it be not
inserted straight into the stone, does not crack the marble, but just
chips off as lightly as possible whatever may be necessary; while
with the _scarpello a tacca_ the rough edges may then be brought to
an even plane, & you go over the work with it just as if you were
making a drawing for the surface. And this truly is the right method,
and the one which the great Michaelangelo employed. Some have tried
other ways, and thinking to have their work done quicker have sought
to get their figure out by taking a bit off first in one place and
then in another, but it took them all the longer in the end, and
wasn’t near so good; and indeed they mightily mistook, for oftentimes
they had to piece up their figures, and yet with all their patching
and piecing they could not remedy the mistakes which a want of
discipline[278] and patience at the outset had led them into.
Gladly would I go on to describe the various kinds of _subbie_,
_scarpelli_, and _trapani_, and likewise the mallets, all of which
are of iron tempered, or of the very finest steel; but as everybody
in Italy, nowadays, knows all about these things it really isn’t
necessary. Had I been writing in France I should have described
another sort of stone which is very soft to work in, & also white,
but not the brilliant white of marble, rather a dull white. This
stone, after it is first quarried, is so soft and easy to work, that
some masters, especially those of Paris, and I too, while there,
wrought it with wooden chisels, only we notched them in various ways
in order the easier to cut the work out according to the sketch.
After this it was finished with delicate and close chisels, pointed
tools[279] and _scarpelli_ of all sorts. This stone, in course of
time, hardened almost like marble, especially its external surface,
but I never saw any that came up to marble when it was cleaned.
The ancients, you know, had so great a joy in things of this kind
that they paid their sculptors with fine liberality, and so they
came to investigate the most difficult things; amongst others they
wrought in a sort of green stone, often nowadays called Greek stone,
of the hardness of agate or chalcedony. Now though I have seen fair
sized figures in this stone, I have never been able to imagine how it
was worked, for, though it admits of being smoothed with lead[280]
and emery for the purpose of pavements and such things, I can only
conceive that for carving figures out of it the ancient masters must
have had some secret of tempering their steel, and so were enabled to
overcome the stone’s tremendous hardness.
There are yet other kinds of stone of which I have in Rome seen
statues, both many and great, serpentine and porphyry, but more
of porphyry, for the stone is somewhat softer. Up to our own day
there was no one who worked in this stone, till one of our Fiesolé
carvers took it up, his name was Francesco del Tadda. This man with a
fine cunning found out the way of working in porphyry. His patience
was great, & he used little hammers, _martelleti_, sharpened like
chisels, _subbie_, and other _scarpelletti_, which he tempered by a
special process of his own.[281] Francesco made Porphyry busts just
as fine as the ancients. Had he been equally strong in designing he
might have done over life size work too, but let it suffice that he
has the credit of being the first among moderns to practise this
art. Would that his example might inspire all who have great work at
heart, princely patrons as well as artists!
We have yet another kind of stone which is called granite. It is
somewhat softer than porphyry and there are two kinds, the one is red
and comes from the East, the other is white or black & comes from
the quarries at Elba; it is very hard to work. The column of Santa
Trinita that came to Florence from Rome is of this sort. Moreover it
is durable and beautiful, but no statues have been made from this
stone in our time.
There are still some other stones that must not be passed over,
stones that we get from near Florence, Fiesolé, Settignano and other
places. Of these, there is one of a blue colour, very delicate, & as
charming to work in as to look at, the country folk call it _pietra
serena_. Great columns are made of it, because it is found in large
masses in the quarry, statues are made of it too; but it is no good
for open-air use, for though it is beautiful it has no durability.
Another sort & a veritable quarry stone[282] is the tan-coloured. It
is soft to work in, statues are made of it, and it is so durable that
it will resist all effects of wind and weather. Yet another sort, and
this likewise a tan-coloured variety, is called the _pietra forte_,
the ‘strong stone,’ & strong it is indeed, for it is desperately hard
to work in, statues, weapons, masks, & many other things are made of
it. You cannot, however, quarry it in very great pieces as you can
the Fiesolé or Settignano varieties. I have mentioned these three
sorts of stone because statues may be made in them. There are many
others in and around Florence, beautifully marked stones, some hard,
some soft, but as they are not used for figure work, I shall have no
more to say about them.
FOOTNOTES:
[275] _Smerigli._
[276] _See ‘Vita,’ p. 475, etc., and note. This crucifix is in the
Church of S. Lorenzo, in the Escurial. I give an illustration of it
opposite._
[277] _Con una tacca in mezzo._
[278] _Ubbidienzia._
[279] _Gorbie._
[280] _Il piombe._
[281] _Altri scarpelletti pur fatti con sue tempere._
[282] _Pietra morta._
CHAPTER VII. A DISQUISITION ON COLOSSAL STATUES, WHETHER MODERATELY
OR VERY GREAT.
Most gracious of readers, forasmuch as I have always promised to
illustrate my words with instances from my own created works, I
would like now to tell you of another branch of the subject, and one
that is both the most difficult and the most admirable of any so far
described; allow me then to make the following digression, so that
those who read may have means of pondering it well. I mean colossi;
not necessarily the very great ones, because whenever a statue is
three times bigger than life size it may be termed a colossus. I
have seen plenty of such, both ancient and modern. But of the very
great ones I have only seen one, and that was in Rome; it was in many
pieces, & I saw the head, feet, part of the legs and other fragments
of its great limbs. Upon measuring the head, which was standing
upright and without the neck, I found as I stood alongside it that
it came up to my nipples, so that it would measure more than two & a
half Florentine cubits, the complete statue therefore must have been
about twenty cubits high.
When I served the great King Francis,—it must have been about the
year 1540,—knowing his consummate taste and his delight in everything
rare and masterful, knowing, too, that such an object had never yet
been fashioned by any living artist, I made among the other works
before-mentioned a model for a fountain at Fontainebleau, or as one
might translate it ‘_Fontana Belio_,’ ‘the fountain of fine waters.’
This model was square in form, and in the middle of the square was
a square base rising four cubits above the water. It was richly
ornamented with many pleasing designs, and devices appropriate to the
King and to the fountain. Upon the base was a figure representing
the God Mars, and at the four corners were figures having reference
all of them to his Majesty. When I showed it to the King it was
to a smaller scale, but in its full size the central figure would
have been forty cubits high, the side figures being proportionately
smaller. When the King saw the model he examined it a long while
with the greatest satisfaction, and then asked me of the central
figure. It was a God of War, I said, and hence most appropriate to
his Majesty. Then he asked me of the other figures. They represented,
I said, the four virtues in which he especially delighted. Just
as the central figure betokened the glory of arms, so did this
one at the corner represent the glory of letters; this one again
sculpture, painting, and architecture; the next music and every
sort of musical harmony; while the last personified liberality, the
cause, mainspring & foster-mother of all the other virtues, and one
that was most abundant in his Majesty. His Majesty promptly gave
me the commission to proceed with the work, which I did, inspired
by his delightful encouragement and with abundance of all sorts of
things placed at my service. After the careful completion of my
little model, as it did not seem to me possible to retain all the
proper proportions if I worked direct from it into the full size, I
determined to make another model three times the size of the small
one,—about the stature of a well-formed man therefore. This model I
made in gesso, so that it should the better resist the much handling
that is inevitable from frequent measuring. After setting up the
iron skeleton I covered it with gesso, and finished it beautifully,
putting more care and detail into it than the little one.
I would take this opportunity, gentle reader, of bidding you bear
in mind that all the really great masters have followed life, but
the point is that you must have a fine judgment to know how the best
of life is to be put into your work, you must always be on the look
out for beautiful human beings, and from among them choose the most
beautiful, & not only so, you must from among even these choose the
most beautiful parts, and so shall your whole composition become
an abstraction of what is beautiful. So alone may work be created,
that shall be evident at once as the labour of men both exquisite
in judgment and humble in study. Such men are rare! Now such zeal
had I, and so many conveniences were placed at my service by that
most liberal King Francis, that I brought this three-sized model of
mine to completion; not only was I satisfied with it myself, but it
pleased everybody who knew what good work was. Truly great Art is
infinite, & the more study you put into your work the easier it is
for you to see its blemishes than others, but for all that it is
sometimes good to cry ‘hold, enough!’ even to one’s own work, so
meseemed here I ought to content me, and therefore I arranged for
setting my work up in due order from the scale model to the final
forty cubits. This was how I went about it.
CHAPTER VIII. THE MYSTERY OF MAKING GREAT COLOSSI.
To begin with, then, I divided the model, which was to be translated
from three cubits to forty, into forty small parts, each of these
parts again I divided into twenty-four parts. But as I knew that
this method alone would not suffice to arrive at the requisite
size, I devised another method, a method entirely my own, never
invented by anyone before, & the outcome of my own great researches.
As I am always generously inclined, I will impart it to such as
have good work at heart. It is this: I took four square pieces of
wood measuring respectively three fingers each way, they were very
straight, and planed nice and smooth, and they were exactly the
height of my figure. These I fixed into the ground, plumbing them
absolutely straight, and at such distance from the figure as to admit
of a man entering in between; they were then match-boarded[283]
all round, the boards being likewise perfectly straight, & a small
opening at the back to enter by. Up against this match-boarding I
began making my measurements, & then I drew out on the floor of a
long room a profile[284] of the whole statue, forty cubits in size.
Finding this plan work out with delightful accuracy, I proceeded
next to make a skeleton three cubits high, similar to that of the
model. This skeleton was all joined together with pieces of wood,
fastened respectively to a very straight rod, the latter served for
the left leg, upon which my figure rested. I took the measurements
of the body of the figure off the case, making allowance in doing
so for the thickness of the flesh and bone work it had subsequently
to be clothed with. Thereupon I erected a great mast forty cubits
high in the centre of the court of my castle, and round it I set up
four other masts just as I had done it with the model, and these
also I cased round with match-boarding just as I had done the small
model. Then I joined together the life size skeleton, taking the
measurements exactly from the small skeleton, for every little piece
a large piece, and so marking off every measurement of every part of
my figure proportionately from one case on to the other.
Had I scaled the work off in the usual way I should have had no end
of difficulties, but this method of mine with the cases avoided all
that, and I got as fine a proportion in my life size as in my small
figures. Now as my figure was posed upon the left foot, and had the
right foot resting on a helmet, I so arranged the skeleton as to
make it possible to get inside the helmet & climb easily through
the foot right up into the head. The skeleton completed, I clothed
it in flesh, that is to say in gesso, and laid it on rapidly in the
same manner. When I had got the work completed to the last skin
but one, I had the front of the casing opened, and stepped back
to view it some forty cubits, which was as much as there was room
for in my court-yard. Everybody was delighted with the result, not
only connoisseurs, many of whom came to see, but, what was much
more important, I myself, who had given so much labour towards its
fulfilment. What pleased me most, however, was the fact that there
was not the slightest discrepancy between the small and the large
model. By this method of mine I set working a number of labourers &
people unskilled in the profession, it wasn’t in the least necessary
for them to know what they were doing. Indeed so masterly is my
invention that nothing but patience and diligence are needed, for the
rest you may be a perfect ignoramus in the art, and not even the hand
of a Michaelangelo help you. In a colossus of this kind the masses of
muscle, &c., are so huge that it is impossible to take them in from
the ordinary point of vision, which one may put at twice the length
of a man; & if you approach the figure at arm’s length in order to
work it you see nothing; if, on the other hand, you go a long way off
you do see a little more, but still not enough to remedy the great
errors that must arise. You see, therefore, that without this method
of mine it is impossible to carry out a large colossus with fine
proportions. Truly, many a statue of ten cubits high has been spoilt
by some blunder or other; and I really think that not even statues of
six cubits high can be properly made without this method of mine. Of
course it is quite conceivable that just as I have discovered this
method so some greater genius than I may discover a better one still;
but then it’s always easy to improve a patent!