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| Benvenuto Cellini |
Benvenuto Cellini
(1500–1571). Autobiography.
Vol. 31, pp. 373-384 of
The Harvard Classics
"Benvenuto, the
figure cannot succeed in bronze," so spoke the patron Duke.
Cellini, stung to fury, passionately burst out: "You do not
understand art." Feverishly he began the casting of the statue -
but read his own account of the tilt with the Duke.
LXXIII
HAVING succeeded so
well with the cast of the Medusa, I had great hope of bringing my
Perseus through; for I had laid the wax on, and felt confident that
it would come out in bronze as perfectly as the Medusa. The waxen
model produced so fine an effect, that when the Duke saw it and was
struck with its beauty—whether somebody had persuaded him it could
not be carried out with the same finish in metal, or whether he
thought so for himself—he came to visit me more frequently than
usual, and on one occasion said: “Benvenuto, this figure cannot
succeed in bronze; the laws of art do not admit of it.” These words
of his Excellency stung me so sharply that I answered: “My lord, I
know how very little confidence you have in me; and I believe the
reason of this is that your most illustrious Excellency lends too
ready an ear to my calumniators, or else indeed that you do not
understand my art.” He hardly let me close the sentence when he
broke in: “I profess myself a connoisseur, and understand it very
well indeed.” I replied: “Yes, like a prince, not like an artist;
for if your Excellency understood my trade as well as you imagine,
you would trust me on the proofs I have already given. These are,
first, the colossal bronze bust of your Excellency, which is now in
Elba; 1 secondly, the restoration of the Ganymede in
marble, which offered so many difficulties and cost me so much
trouble, that I would rather have made the whole statue new from the
beginning; thirdly, the Medusa, cast by me in bronze, here now before
your Excellency’s eyes, the execution of which was a greater
triumph of strength and skill than any of my predecessors in this
fiendish art have yet achieved. Look you, my lord! I constructed that
furnace anew on principles quite different from those of other
founders; in addition to many technical improvements and ingenious
devices, I supplied it with two issues for the metal, because this
difficult and twisted figure could not otherwise have come out
perfect. It is only owing to my intelligent insight into means and
appliances that the statue turned out as it did; a triumph judged
impossible by all the practitioners of this art. I should like you
furthermore to be aware, my lord, for certain, that the sole reason
why I succeeded with all those great arduous works in France under
his most admirable Majesty King Francis, was the high courage which
that good monarch put into my heart by the liberal allowances he made
me, and the multitude of workpeople he left at my disposal. I could
have as many as I asked for, and employed at times above forty, all
chosen by myself. These were the causes of my having there produced
so many masterpieces in so short a space of time. Now then, my lord,
put trust in me; supply me with the aid I need. I am confident of
being able to complete a work which will delight your soul. But if
your Excellency goes on disheartening me, and does not advance me the
assistance which is absolutely required, neither I nor any man alive
upon this earth can hope to achieve the slightest thing of value.”
Note 1. At
Portoferraio. It came afterwards to Florence.
LXXIV
IT was as much as the
Duke could do to stand by and listen to my pleadings. He kept turning
first this way and then that; while I, in despair, poor wretched I,
was calling up remembrance of the noble state I held in France, to
the great sorrow of my soul. All at once he cried: “Come, tell me,
Benvenuto, how is it possible that yonder splendid head of Medusa, so
high up there in the grasp of Perseus, should ever come out perfect?”
I replied upon the instant: “Look you now, my lord! If your
Excellency possessed that knowledge of the craft which you affirm you
have, you would not fear one moment for the splendid head you speak
of. There is good reason, on the other hand, to feel uneasy about
this right foot, so far below and at a distance from the rest.”
When he heard these words, the Duke turned, half in anger, to some
gentlemen in waiting, and exclaimed: “I verily believe that this
Benvenuto prides himself on contradicting everything one says.”
Then he faced round to me with a touch of mockery, upon which his
attendants did the like, and began to speak as follows: “I will
listen patiently to any argument you can possibly produce in
explanation of your statement, which may convince me of its
probability.” I said in answer: “I will adduce so sound an
argument that your Excellency shall perceive the full force of it.”
So I began: “You must know, my lord, that the nature of fire is to
ascend, and therefore I promise you that Medusa’s head will come
out famously; but since it is not in the nature of fire to descend,
and I must force it downwards six cubits by artificial means, I
assure your Excellency upon this most convincing ground of proof that
the foot cannot possibly come out. It will, however, be quite easy
for me to restore it.” “Why, then,” said the Duke, “did you
not devise it so that the foot should come out as well as you affirm
the head will?” I answered: “I must have made a much larger
furnace, with a conduit as thick as my leg; and so I might have
forced the molten metal by its own weight to descend so far. Now, my
pipe, which runs six cubits to the statue’s foot, as I have said,
is not thicker than two fingers. However, it was not worth the
trouble and expense to make a larger; for I shall easily be able to
mend what is lacking. But when my mould is more than half full, as I
expect, from this middle point upwards, the fire ascending by its
natural property, then the heads of Perseus and Medusa will come out
admirably; you may be quite sure of it.” After I had thus expounded
these convincing arguments, together with many more of the same kind,
which it would be tedious to set down here, the Duke shook his head
and departed without further ceremony.
LXXV
ABANDONED thus to my own
resources, I took new courage, and banished the sad thoughts which
kept recurring to my mind, making me often weep bitter tears of
repentance for having left France; for though I did so only to
revisit Florence, my sweet birthplace, in order that I might
charitably succour my six nieces, this good action, as I well
perceived, had been the beginning of my great misfortune.
Nevertheless, I felt convinced that when my Perseus was accomplished,
all these trials would be turned to high felicity and glorious
well-being.
Accordingly
I strengthened my heart, and with all the forces of my body and my
purse, employing what little money still remained to me, I set to
work. First I provided myself with several loads of pinewood from the
forests of Serristori, in the neighbourhood of Montelupo. While these
were on their way, I clothed my Perseus with the clay which I had
prepared many months beforehand, in order that it might be duly
seasoned. After making its clay tunic (for that is the term used in
this art) and properly arming it and fencing it with iron girders, I
began to draw the wax out by means of a slow fire. This melted and
issued through numerous air-vents I had made; for the more there are
of these, the better will the mould fill. When I had finished drawing
off the wax, I constructed a funnel-shaped furnace all round the
model of my Perseus. 1 It was built of bricks,
so interlaced, the one above the other, that numerous apertures were
left for the fire to exhale at. Then I began to lay on wood by
degrees, and kept it burning two whole days and nights. At length,
when all the wax was gone, and the mould was well baked, I set to
work at digging the pit in which to sink it. This I performed with
scrupulous regard to all the rules of art. When I had finished that
part of my work, I raised the mould by windlasses and stout ropes to
a perpendicular position, and suspending it with the greatest care
one cubit above the level of the furnace, so that it hung exactly
above the middle of the pit, I next lowered it gently down into the
very bottom of the furnace, and had it firmly placed with every
possible precaution for its safety. When this delicate operation was
accomplished, I began to bank it up with the earth I had excavated;
and, ever as the earth grew higher, I introduced its proper
air-vents, which were little tubes of earthenware, such as folk use
for drains and such-like purposes. 2 At length,
I felt sure that it was admirably fixed, and that the filling-in of
the pit and the placing of the air-vents had been properly performed.
I also could see that my work people understood my method, which
differed very considerably from that of all the other masters in the
trade. Feeling confident, then, that I could rely upon them, I next
turned to my furnace, which I had filled with numerous pigs of copper
and other bronze stuff. The pieces were piled according to the laws
of art, that is to say, so resting one upon the other that the flames
could play freely through them, in order that the metal might heat
and liquefy the sooner. At last I called out heartily to set the
furnace going. The logs of pine were heaped in, and, what with the
unctuous resin of the wood and the good draught I had given, my
furnace worked so well that I was obliged to rush from side to side
to keep it going. The labour was more than I could stand; yet I
forced myself to strain every nerve and muscle. To increase my
anxieties, the workshop took fire, and we were afraid lest the roof
should fall upon our heads; while, from the garden, such a storm of
wind and rain kept blowing in, that it perceptibly cooled the
furnace.
Battling
thus with all these untoward circumstances for several hours, and
exerting myself beyond even the measure of my powerful constitution,
I could at last bear up no longer, and a sudden fever, 3 of
the utmost possible intensity, attacked me. I felt absolutely obliged
to go and fling myself upon my bed. Sorely against my will having to
drag myself away from the spot, I turned to my assistants, about ten
or more in all, what with master-founders, hand-workers,
country-fellows, and my own special journeymen, among whom was
Bernardino Mannellini of Mugello, my apprentice through several
years. To him in particular I spoke: “Look, my dear Bernardino,
that you observe the rules which I have taught you; do your best with
all despatch, for the metal will soon be fused. You cannot go wrong;
these honest men will get the channels ready; you will easily be able
to drive back the two plugs with this pair of iron crooks; and I am
sure that my mould will fill miraculously. I feel more ill than I
ever did in all my life, and verily believe that it will kill me
before a few hours are over. 4 Thus, with
despair at heart, I left them, and betook myself to bed.
Note
1. This furnace, called manica, was like a
grain-hopper, so that the mould could stand upright in it as in a
cup. The word manica is the same as our manuch, an
antique form of sleeve.
Note
2. These air-vents, or sfiatatoi, were
introduced into the outer mould, which Cellini calls the tonaca, or
clay tunic laid upon the original model of baked clay and wax. They
served the double purpose of drawing off the wax, whereby a space was
left for the molten bronze to enter, and also of facilitating the
penetration of this molten metal by allowing a free escape of air and
gas from the outer mould.
Note
4. Some technical terms require explanation in this
sentence. The canali or channels were sluices for
carrying the molten metal from the furnace into the mould.
The mandriani,which I have translated by iron
crooks, were poles fitted at the end with curved irons, by
which the openings of the furnace, plugs, or in
Italian spine, could be partially or wholly driven
back, so as to the molten metal flow through the channels into the
mould. When the metal reached the mould, it entered in a red-hot
stream between the tonaca, or outside mould, and
the anima, or inner block, filling up exactly the
space which had previously been occupied by the wax extracted by a
method of slow burning alluded to above. I believe that the process
is known as casting á cire perdue. The forma, or
mould, consisted of two pieces; one hollow (la tonaca), which
gave shape to the bronze; one solid and rounded (la anima),
which stood at a short interval within the former, and regulated the
influx of the metal. See above, p. 354, note.
LXXVI
NO sooner had I got to
bed, than I ordered my serving-maids to carry food and wine for all
the men into the workshop; at the same time I cried: “I shall not
be alive tomorrow.” They tried to encourage me, arguing that my
illness would pass over, since it came from excessive fatigue. In
this way I spent two hours battling with the fever, which steadily
increased, and calling out continually: “I feel that I am dying.”
My housekeeper, who was named Mona Fiore da Castel del Rio, a very
notable manager and no less warm-hearted, kept chiding me for my
discouragement; but, on the other hand, she paid me every kind
attention which was possible. However, the sight of my physical pain
and moral dejection so affected her, that, in spite of that brave
heart of hers, she could not refrain from shedding tears; and yet, so
far as she was able, she took good care I should not see them. While
I was thus terribly afflicted, I beheld the figure of a man enter my
chamber, twisted in his body into the form of a capital S. He raised
a lamentable, doleful voice, like one who announces their last hour
to men condemned to die upon the scaffold, and spoke these words: “O
Benvenuto! your statue is spoiled, and there is no hope whatever of
saving it.” No sooner had I heard the shriek of that wretch than I
gave a howl which might have been heard from the sphere of flame.
Jumping from my bed, I seized my clothes and began to dress. The
maids, and my lads, and every one who came around to help me, got
kicks or blows of the fist, while I kept crying out in lamentation:
“Ah! traitors! enviers! This is an act of treason, done by malice
prepense! But I swear by God that I will sift it to the bottom, and
before I die will leave such witness to the world of what I can do as
shall make a score of mortals marvel.”
When
I had got my clothes on, I strode with soul bent on mischief toward
the workshop; there I beheld the men, whom I had left erewhile in
such high spirits, standing stupefied and downcast. I began at once
and spoke: “Up with you! Attend to me! Since you have not been able
or willing to obey the directions I gave you, obey me now that I am
with you to conduct my work in person. Let no one contradict me, for
in cases like this we need the aid of hand and hearing, not of
advice.” When I had uttered these words, a certain Maestro
Alessandro Lastricati broke silence and said: “Look you, Benvenuto,
you are going to attempt an enterprise which the laws of art do not
sanction, and which cannot succeed.” I turned upon him with such
fury and so full of mischief, that he and all the rest of them
exclaimed with one voice: “On then! Give orders! We will obey your
least commands, so long as life is left in us.” I believe they
spoke thus feelingly because they thought I must fall shortly dead
upon the ground. I went immediately to inspect the furnace, and found
that the metal was all curdled; an accident which we express by
“being caked.” 1 I told two of the hands to
cross the road, and fetch from the house of the butcher Capretta a
load of young oak-wood, which had lain dry for above a year; this
wood had been previously offered me by Madame Ginevra, wife of the
said Capretta. So soon as the first armfuls arrived, I began to fill
the grate beneath the furnace. 2 Now oak-wood of
that kind heats more powerfully than any other sort of tree; and for
this reason, where a slow fire is wanted, as in the case of
gun-foundry, alder or pine is preferred. Accordingly, when the logs
took fire, oh! how the cake began to stir beneath that awful heat, to
glow and sparkle in a blaze! At the same time I kept stirring up the
channels, and sent men upon the roof to stop the conflagration, which
had gathered force from the increased combustion in the furnace; also
I caused boards, carpets, and other hangings to be set up against the
garden, in order to protect us from the violence of the rain.
Note
1. Essersi
fatto un migliaccio.
Note 2. The
Italian is bracciaiuola, a
pit below the grating, which receives the ashes from the furnace.
LXXVII
WHEN I had thus provided
against these several disasters, I roared out first to one man and
then to another: “Bring this thing here! Take that thing there!”
At this crisis, when the whole gang saw the cake was on the point of
melting, they did my bidding, each fellow working with the strength
of three. I then ordered half a pig of pewter to be brought, which
weighed about sixty pounds, and flung it into the middle of the cake
inside the furnace. By this means, and by piling on wood and stirring
now with pokers and now with iron rods, the curdled mass rapidly
began to liquefy. Then, knowing I had brought the dead to life again,
against the firm opinion of those ignoramuses, I felt such vigour
fill my veins, that all those pains of fever, all those fears of
death, were quite forgotten.
All of a sudden an explosion took
place, attended by a tremendous flash of flame, as though a
thunderbolt had formed and been discharged amongst us. Unwonted and
appalling terror astonished every one, and me more even than the
rest. When the din was over and the dazzling light extinguished, we
began to look each other in the face. Then I discovered that the cap
of the furnace had blown up, and the bronze was bubbling over from
its source beneath. So I had the mouths of my mould immediately
opened, and at the same time drove in the two plugs which kept back
the molten metal. But I noticed that it did not flow as rapidly as
usual, the reason being probably that the fierce heat of the fire we
kindled had consumed its base alloy. Accordingly I sent for all my
pewter platters, porringers, and dishes, to the number of some two
hundred pieces, and had a portion of them cast, one by one, into the
channels, the rest into the furnace. This expedient succeeded, and
every one could now perceive that my bronze was in most perfect
liquefaction, and my mould was filling; whereupon they all with
heartiness and happy cheer assisted and obeyed my bidding, while I,
now here, now there, gave orders, helped with my own hands, and cried
aloud: “O God! Thou that by Thy immeasurable power didst rise from
the dead, and in Thy glory didst ascend to heaven!”…. even thus
in a moment my mould was filled; and seeing my work finished, I fell
upon my knees, and with all my heart gave thanks to God.
After all was over, I turned to a
plate of salad on a bench there, and ate with hearty appetite, and
drank together with the whole crew. Afterwards I retired to bed,
healthy and happy, for it was now two hours before morning, and slept
as sweetly as though I had never felt a touch of illness. My good
housekeeper, without my giving any orders, had prepared a fat capon
for my repast. So that, when I rose, about the hour for breaking
fast, she presented herself with a smiling countenance, and said:
“Oh! is that the man who felt that he was dying? Upon my word, I
think the blows and kicks you dealt us last night, when you were so
enraged, and had that demon in your body as it seemed, must have
frightened away your mortal fever! The fever feared that it might
catch it too, as we did!” All my poor household, relieved in like
measure from anxiety and overwhelming labour, went at once to buy
earthen vessels in order to replace the pewter I had cast away. Then
we dined together joyfully; nay, I cannot remember a day in my whole
life when I dined with greater gladness or a better appetite.
After our meal I received visits from
the several men who had assisted me. They exchanged congratulations,
and thanked God for our success, saying they had learned and seen
things done which other masters judged impossible. I too grew
somewhat glorious; and deeming I had shown myself a man of talent,
indulged a boastful humour. So I thrust my hand into my purse, and
paid them all to their full satisfaction.
That evil fellow, my mortal foe,
Messer Pier Francesco Ricci, majordomo of the Duke, took great pains
to find out how the affair had gone. In answer to his questions, the
two men whom I suspected of having caked my metal for me, said I was
no man, but of a certainty some powerful devil, since I had
accomplished what no craft of the art could do; indeed they did not
believe a mere ordinary fiend could work such miracles as I in other
ways had shown. They exaggerated the whole affair so much, possibly
in order to excuse their own part in it, that the majordomo wrote an
account to the Duke, who was then in Pisa, far more marvellous and
full of thrilling incidents than what they had narrated.
LXXVIII
AFTER I had let my statue
cool for two whole days, I began to uncover it by slow degrees. The
first thing I found was that the head of Medusa had come out most
admirably, thanks to the air-vents; for, as I had told the Duke, it
is the nature of fire to ascend. Upon advancing farther, I discovered
that the other head, that, namely, of Perseus, had succeeded no less
admirably; and this astonished me far more, because it is at a
considerably lower level than that of the Medusa. Now the mouths of
the mould were placed above the head of Perseus and behind his
shoulders; and I found that all the bronze my furnace contained had
been exhausted in the head of this figure. It was a miracle to
observe that not one fragment remained in the orifice of the channel,
and that nothing was wanting to the statue. In my great astonishment
I seemed to see in this the hand of God arranging and controlling
all.
I went on uncovering the statue with
success, and ascertained that everything had come out in perfect
order, until I reached the foot of the right leg on which the statue
rests. There the heel itself was formed, and going farther, I found
the foot apparently complete. This gave me great joy on the one side,
but was half unwelcome to me on the other, merely because I had told
the Duke that it could not come out. However, when I reached the end,
it appeared that the toes and a little piece above them were
unfinished, so that about half the foot was wanting. Although I knew
that this would add a trifle to my labour, I was very well pleased,
because I could now prove to the Duke how well I understood my
business. It is true that far more of the foot than I expected had
been perfectly formed; the reason of this was that, from causes I
have recently described, the bronze was hotter than our rules of art
prescribe; also that I had been obliged to supplement the alloy with
my pewter cups and platters, which no one else, I think, had ever
done before.
Having now
ascertained how successfully my work had been accomplished, I lost no
time in hurrying to Pisa, where I found the Duke. He gave me a most
gracious reception, as did also the Duchess; and although the
majordomo had informed them of the whole proceedings, their
Excellencies deemed my performance far more stupendous and
astonishing when they heard the tale from my own mouth. When I
arrived at the foot of Perseus, and said it had not come out perfect,
just as I previously warned his Excellency, I saw an expression of
wonder pass over his face, while he related to the Duchess how I had
predicted this beforehand. Observing the princes to be so well
disposed towards me, I begged leave from the Duke to go to Rome. He
granted it in most obliging terms, and bade me return as soon as
possible to complete his Perseus; giving me letters of recommendation
meanwhile to his ambassador, Averardo Serristori. We were then in the
first years of Pope Giulio de Monti. 1
Note 1. Gio Maria del Monte Sansovino was
elected Pope, with the title of Julius III., in February 1550.
LXXIX
BEFORE leaving home, I directed my workpeople to
proceed according to the method I had taught them. The reason of my
journey was as follows. I had made a life-sized bust in bronze of
Bindo Altoviti, 1 the son of Antonio, and had sent it to
him at Rome. He set it up in his study, which was very richly adorned
with antiquities and other works of art; but the room was not
designed for statues or for paintings, since the windows were too
low, so that the light coming from beneath spoiled the effect they
would have produced under more favourable conditions. It happened one
day that Bindo was standing at his door, when Michel Agnolo
Buonarroti, the sculptor, passed by; so he begged him to come in and
see his study. Michel Agnolo followed, and on entering the room and
looking round, he exclaimed: “Who is the master who made that good
portrait of you in so fine a manner? You must know that that bust
pleases me as much, or even more, than those antiques; and yet there
are many fine things to be seen among the latter. If those windows
were above instead of beneath, the whole collection would show to
greater advantage, and your portrait, placed among so many
masterpieces, would hold its own with credit.” No sooner had Michel
Agnolo left the house of Bindo than he wrote me a very kind letter,
which ran as follows: “My dear Benvenuto, I have known you for many
years as the greatest goldsmith of whom we have any information; and
henceforward I shall know you for a sculptor of like quality. I must
tell you that Master Bindo Altoviti took me to see his bust in
bronze, and informed me that you had made it. I was greatly pleased
with the work; but it annoyed me to notice that it was placed in a
bad light; for if it were suitably illuminated, it would show itself
to be the fine performance that it is.” This letter abounded with
the most affectionate and complimentary expressions towards myself;
and before I left for Rome, I showed it to the Duke, who read it with
much kindly interest, and said to me: “Benvenuto, if you write to
him, and can persuade him to return to Florence, I will make him a
member of the Forty-eight.” 2 Accordingly I wrote a
letter full of warmth, and offered in the Duke’s name a hundred
times more than my commission carried; but not wanting to make any
mistake, I showed this to the Duke before I sealed it, saying to his
most illustrious Excellency: “Prince, perhaps I have made him too
many promises.” He replied: “Michel Agnolo deserves more than you
have promised, and I will bestow on him still greater favours.” To
this letter he sent no answer, and I could see that the Duke was much
offended with him.
Note 1.
This man was a member of a very noble Florentine family. Born in
1491, he was at this epoch Tuscan Consul in Rome. Cellini’s bust of
him still exists in the Palazzo Altoviti at Rome.
Note 2.
This was one of the three Councils created by Clement VII. in 1532,
when he changed the Florentine constitution. It corresponded to a
Senate.
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