CHAPTER IV
ADVENTURES OF CELLINI
Cellini favoured by Clement VII and receives an important commission—Paul III succeeds Clement and is no friend to Cellini—Benvenuto slays a rival jeweller, Pompeo—Pier Luigi, the new pope’s nephew, vows vengeance—He is arrested on the charge of having appropriated to his own use jewels entrusted to him by Clement VII during the siege—The case fails but Cellini is committed to St. Angelo—Thrilling escape—A Venetian Cardinal, Cornaro, gives him a refuge, but surrenders him in exchange for a bishopric—Cellini sent back to St. Angelo—Released by the good offices of Francis I of France—Paul III does much for St. Angelo—The great Hall he built still intact and much admired.
Cellini went back to the Holy City and resumed his work as a goldsmith. He was graciously received in audience by the pope, who was overjoyed at the sight of him. Cellini was, on the contrary, greatly downcast, and confessed that having received no payment for his trouble in breaking up the papal jewels he had appropriated a portion of the molten gold to indemnify himself; and he now sought absolution which the priests had hitherto refused him. The pope readily forgave him, expressing his concern that he had had no reward and now freely making him a present of what he had already abstracted; he also gave him a valuable commission, entrusting him with a magnificent diamond and other jewels to set in a gold button for the pontifical cope. In this he succeeded admirably and produced a piece of the most exquisite art, according to Vasari, the contemporary critic. But he stirred up the jealousy of the pope’s favourite gentleman of the bedchamber, who protested that too much favour was shown to this presumptuous young man. Yet Cellini continued to retain the pope’s good graces, and was more and more employed in the stamping of medals and coins for the papal mint, and of one fine piece it was said that His Holiness might boast that he possessed a coin superior to that struck for any Roman emperor.
About this time Cellini got into serious trouble by attacking and engaging in a duel with one of the city guard who had murdered his brother in a brawl. He was not immediately arrested, and a gentleman informed him that the pope knew all that had happened, but that His Holiness was very much his friend and desired him to go on with his business without giving himself any uneasiness. Then his shop was broken into by a thief just as he was in possession of a great part of the pope’s jewels, but fortunately they were not taken, yet the pope was told that the story of the robbery was fabricated to explain the disappearance of the property. Cellini, however, promptly repaired to the Vatican and produced the jewels, saying, “Holy Father, they are all here, not one missing,” and His Holiness replied with a serene brow, “Then you are indeed welcome.”
For the rest of Clement’s pontificate the relations between him and Cellini varied; now the jeweller was in high favour, now in disgrace. Jealous rivals maligned him; Cellini retorted by personal attack. His rash hands readily obeyed his quick temper; he struck down an enemy wherever he met him and then fled to escape just consequences. Throughout he laboured assiduously at his art. One of his finest works was a gold chalice for the pope and he was employed to make the stamp for the Roman mint, and it is agreed that his coins were the finest produced. Then a great change came over his fortunes; Pope Clement VII died and was succeeded by Paul III, a Farnese and no friend to Cellini, who had also incurred the bitter enmity of one Pier Luigi, the new pope’s nephew. Benvenuto went wrong at once by following up an old quarrel with another jeweller, Pompeo, who had been in the service of Clement and constantly at variance with Cellini. One day Pompeo came to his shop, Cellini relates, and stopping in front of the door, “whilst you might say a couple of Ave Marias, began to laugh in my face; and when he went off his comrades fell a laughing likewise, shook their heads and made many gestures in derision and defiance of me.” Cellini, hot-headed as usual, was easily spurred on by his friends to retaliate; he followed Pompeo down the street and met him as he came out of a shop where he had been boasting of having bullied Cellini, who continues: “I thereupon clapped my hand to a sharp dagger and laid hold of him by the throat so quickly and with such presence of mind that there was no one who could defend him. I pulled him towards me to give him a blow in front but he turned his face about through excess of terror so that I wounded him exactly under the ear; and upon my repeating my blow he fell down dead. It had never been my intention to kill him but blows are not always under command.”
Cellini found protectors. Cardinal Cornaro, a Venetian, sent out a party of soldiers to bring him safely to his house. At the same time Cardinal de Medicis proposed to befriend him but Cornaro angrily refused to part with Cellini, vowing that he was as proper a person to take care of him as De Medicis. At that time the new pope, Paul III, came into power and called for Cellini, meaning to employ him again at the mint. They told Paul that Cellini had absconded for having killed one Pompeo in a fray, but the pope would not interfere, declaring that “men who are masters in their profession like Benvenuto should not be subject to the laws, but he less than any other, for I am sensible that he was right in the whole affair. I have often heard of Benvenuto’s provocation, so let a safe conduct be made out and that will secure him from all manner of danger.” After that Cellini resumed his business and was again employed by the pope’s order at the mint.
He was not, however, suffered to escape the vengeance of Pompeo’s relations. A daughter of the murdered man had married a natural son of Pier Luigi, the pope’s nephew, an unscrupulous but powerful person who readily promised to have Cellini arrested. Although “he was lavish of demonstrations of kindness to me,” says Benvenuto, “he had at the same time given orders to the captain of the city guard to seize me or get somebody to assassinate me.” Of the two courses the latter was chosen, and a cut-throat Corsican soldier was engaged to do the work, who gave it out that “he would make no more of it than swallowing a new laid egg.” Cellini was informed of his danger and kept a constant look-out, going about always well accompanied and armed with a coat of mail which he had received permission from the government to wear. When they met face to face, Cellini told the soldier that he had to deal with one who would sell his life very dear. “All this while,” says Cellini, “I stood upon my guard with a stern and watchful eye and we both changed colour. By this time a crowd was gathered round us ... so that he had not the spirit to attack me.” Indeed the bravo afterwards assured Cellini that he had nothing more to fear from him, but that he would for the future consider him as a brother.
Pier Luigi, foiled in the assassination planned, gave orders on his own authority that Cellini should be taken into custody, whereupon the goldsmith took post the same night for Florence, where he was well received by Duke Alessandro de Medicis, who employed him in the mint until the pope sent him an ample safe conduct and ordered him to return to Rome to clear himself of the charge of murder. The duke advised him to remain in Florence, but Cellini, having a shop open in the Holy City, and a staff of workmen, resolved to venture back. He had no sooner arrived than the city guard fell upon him but after a scuffle left him in peace, upon his production of the safe conduct. Later he was called upon to give himself up as a prisoner, as a matter of form, so as to qualify for pardon, but the pope, upon his petition, fully forgave him. A terrible illness now attacked him, from which he did not recover until he returned to his native air of Florence, where he remained for some time, following his business, going farther afield into France and encountering many curious adventures. Once more he found himself in Rome and was to be subjected to a series of grievous trials quite unforeseen by him, and due to the persistent malignity of his enemies. He was again to make the acquaintance of the interior of the castle of St. Angelo, and this time painfully and ingloriously, as a helpless and much persecuted prisoner.
Among the workmen in his employment was a native of Perugia whom he had greatly trusted and liberally paid. The ungrateful wretch suddenly left his service at a most inconvenient time and trumped up a false charge against his master, giving information to Luigi that Cellini had detained a large portion of the jewels entrusted to him by Clement VII during the siege. The crime imputed to Cellini was that when he had removed the precious stones from their settings, he had sewn them up in his own clothes and subsequently disposed of them for 80,000 crowns. This nefarious transaction was vouched for by the treacherous journeyman, who declared that Cellini had confided to him that he held the jewels securely concealed in his shop. Luigi, a man of vicious, dissipated habits, was consumed with greed, and going to the pope obtained a promise from him of the reversion of the 80,000 crowns when recovered from Cellini, who was to be forthwith arrested and examined. When the captain of the city guard arrived and took him in charge as the pope’s prisoner, Cellini protested, “You mistake your man.” “By no means,” replied the captain, “you are the ingenious artist Benvenuto, I know you very well and have orders to conduct you to St. Angelo, where noblemen and men of genius like yourself are confined.” He was accordingly carried there and brought before three judges appointed to bring the affair to an issue. They detailed the charge as given above, commanding him either to find the jewels themselves or the value of them, after which he would be set at large. Cellini indignantly repudiated the charge, protesting that although he had resided for twenty years in Rome he had never before been imprisoned, either in the castle or elsewhere. Here the governor interposed pertinently; “Yet you have killed men enough in your time.” Cellini retorted that he had always acted in self-defence or in anticipation of murderous attack and proceeded with his defence. It was simple and very much to the point; he invited the judges to examine the books wherein would be found a full list of the papal jewels and called upon them to compare it with the valuables in possession. He reminded them that these registers had always been kept with extreme accuracy and that the comparison he suggested would result in his complete acquittal. At the same time, he adverted to his services during the siege, pointing out that but for him the Imperialists would have gained possession of the castle when they first arrived, and recalling his wounding of the Prince of Orange.
In the end Cellini was entirely exonerated and it was clearly shown that he could not have appropriated any of the pope’s jewels, for not a single one was missing. The judges accordingly absolved him, and he was entitled to immediate release. Unhappily, the king of France, Francis I, had heard that Cellini had been committed unjustly to durance, and pleaded for his prompt enlargement. The pope refused, and bade the king to give himself no further concern about such a turbulent and troublesome fellow; that Cellini was kept in prison for committing murder and atrocious crimes. The king still pressed his claim, insisting that Cellini was now in his service and required that he should be sent to him. But the pope held on to him, fearing that Cellini would make an exposure upon reaching France, after his arbitrary illegal detention.