Benvenuto Cellini (1500–1571). Autobiography.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
XLVI
I
I was on terms of the closest intimacy with one Messer Giovanni Gaddi, who was a clerk of the Camera, and a great connoisseur of the arts, although he had no practical acquaintance with any. In his household were a certain Messer Giovanni, a Greek of eminent learning, Messer Lodovico of Fano, no less distinguished as a man of letters, Messer Antonio Allegretti, and Messer Annibale Caro, at that time in his early manhood. Messer Bastiano of Venice, a most excellent painter, and I were admitted to their society; and almost every day we met together in Messer Giovanni’s company.
Being aware of this intimacy, the worthy goldsmith Raffaello said to Messer Giovanni: “Good sir, you know me; now I want to marry my daughter to Benvenuto, and can think of no better intermediary than your worship. So I am come to crave your assistance, and to beg you to name for her such dowry from my estate as you may think suitable.” The light-headed man hardly let my good friend finish what he had to say, before he put in quite at random: “Talk no more about it, Raffaello; you are farther from your object than January from mulberries.” The poor man, utterly discouraged, looked about at once for another husband for his girl; while she and the mother and all the family lived on in a bad humour with me. Since I did not know the real cause of this—I imagined they were paying me with bastard coin for the many kindnesses I had shown them—I conceived the thought of opening a workshop of my own in their neighbourhood. Messer Giovanni told me nothing till the girl was married, which happened in a few months.
Meanwhile, I laboured assiduously at the work I was doing for the Pope, and also in the service of the Mint; for his Holiness had ordered another coin, of the value of two carlins, on which his own portrait was stamped, while the reverse bore a figure of Christ upon the waters, holding out his hand to S. Peter, with this inscription Quare dubitasti? My design won such applause that a certain secretary of the Pope, a man of the greatest talent, called Il Sanga, was moved to this remark: “Your Holiness can boast of having a currency superior to any of the ancients in all their glory.” The Pope replied: “Benvenuto, for his part, can boast of serving an emperor like me, who is able to discern his merit.” I went on at my great piece in gold, showing it frequently to the Pope, who was very eager to see it, and each time expressed greater admiration.