That one

but in the field of morals this was not wholly true. man bade his prince ignore the laws is not evidence against a nation's honor. That one man's pastimes were "killing, wantoning, disputing with employers, and working diligently at his trade," is not proof that all men were of the same mould and tendency. That a single energetic character showed no rectitude of life shadows none but himself.

It was very easy for a person of Cellini's stamp to strip dignity and conscience from the Papal chair. In the heat of thoughtless and formless dictation pique swells into unjust bulk. Cellini scorned the laws of church and state. His intimation, however, that no man of spirit ever appealed to them is a bit of braggadocio that smells of self-justification. Vanity alone will not account for his countless attempts to exonerate himself from wrong-doing. After a page or two of excuses, one is inclined to suspect the creature of having some sort of conscience. This suspicion is confirmed by his numerous flights to the cardinals for protection. These sanctuary retreats were not made through fear of his victim's relatives, for Cellini's courage was unmistakable though foolhardy. He dreaded no man nor odds. He possessed rare artistic possibilities; was a person of violent temper and obstinate will. Outside of his art, his instincts were brutal, and his indulgence flagrant. Vengeance stung him to the commission of great and small crimes. His life was one of free pleasure and violence. The result of this on his art is noticeable. His works are the embodiment of soulless paganism.

Michael Angelo, in juxtaposition, was a truer type of the intense spirit of the age. Cellini, at best, yields us hints of the outward and human activity of his day; a day, however, that was not without its philosophic thoughts; its spiritual struggles and experiences. And if these qualities are set aside, where is the warrant of equitable judgment? Both men were exceptional. In the lives of each the scattered and imperfect qualities of their age were gathered in dominant assembly. Both left a record of their personality on art: the one, spiritual strength, and convictions with immortality; the other, sensual impressions, shallowness with oblivion. One was alive to the beauty of religion; the other, to the religion of beauty. Alone, neither of them typifies the age; together, they exaggerate it.

of Italy's endeavors; nor was she saintly. Factions repudiated Savonarola; but that did not mark the age as one of bandits, bullies, and adventurers. If it were not sacrilegious, place beside the unthinking and unfeeling Perseus of Cellini that marvellous Pietà † of Buonarrotti. And, when the vast spiritual difference flashes on the intellect, ask yourself which of the two expressions was buried deeper in the Italian heart. The bel corpo alone was not sufficient for humanity; the intense inspiration of Angelo touched a tenderer and more constant chord. Between these two extremes; between soulless animalism and the serene, resplendent heights of faith, the heart of the people swayed in balance. Catholic Italy never wholly abandoned the things that were of God. Cellini, however, was without a rag of honor-a freebooter in art as well as in morals.

Benvenuto Cellini, son of Giovanni d'Andrea di Cristoforo Cellini and Maria Lisabetta di Steffano Granocci, was born All Souls' Day, 1500. Among his ancestors were many famous men. One of them a certain Luca Cellini-a giovane senza barba-overcame the noted Francesco da Vicorati in a duel. This event Benvenuto relates with evident gusto. According to him it was a marvel to the whole world, and he prides himself in his descent from such valorous men.§ He was early acquainted with imagination, as the stories of the scorpion and salamander prove. These intense and questionable scenes are vivid settings for Benvenuto the hero, whose life was miraculous from the circumstances of his birth to the close of his narrative. Marriage seems to have cured him in some degree, for after that event he had neither heart nor time to complete his diary.

That you may know his sire was not of common clay, Cellini tells of the wonderful organs and musical instruments. his father made; and of the latter's skill in working ivory. T The dominant paternal wish was that Benvenuto would become a great musician-un gran sonatore. It is somewhat pitiful to read with what constancy the father cherished this desire. When the parent was advised by Soderino Gonfalonière to Marquand's History of Sculpture, p. 215. + Renaissance in Italy, Symonds, p. 285. Page 4 of his Memoirs. "Iomi glorio d'aver lo scendenti mio da uomini valorosi." Page 9 Memoirs.

teach Benvenuto the other arts, Giovanni replied: "I would have him learn no other art except that of playing and composing." And he added: "God willing, I shall make of him the first man of the world." Cellini, however, considered flute-playing an art troppo vile-in comparison with goldsmithing, whose rudiments he first learned in the shop of Baccio Bandinello. The young apprentice, it seems, tried hard to please his father by now and then playing the flute; usually with such skill that the fond parent was moved to deep sighs and tears-le lagrime con gran sospiri.

It would be tedious to relate the countless brawls and pursuits of vengeance; the marvellous encounters and escapes that are compounded in the pages of Cellini's diary. Yet, if we are to believe him, he has but indicated the mere outlines of his ultra-active life. He never regarded life with naked eyes; but through a lens of acute imagination. This quality waxed in capability up to, and perhaps beyond, the age of fifty-eight, at which time Cellini began his Memoirs. It is natural to find facts distorted, and erroneous causes set forth. The mould of reality was disordered by heroic projections and grotesque lines. There is more or less caricature and parody in the scenes he so vividly presents. Age, which in most men of normal temperamant rectifies and adjusts the visions of youth, seems to have laid its cautious finger neither on the hand nor heart of Cellini. As a consequence he was never sure of himself, and became a reed for every wind of fancy to pipe upon. That scene or circumstance wherein he could not possibly pose as hero, is passed with chilling brevity. His vanity was inordinate; which accounts for the daring complacency with which. he left his autobiography as witness to his character.

Even in his sixteenth year Cellini, from his own recital, was an awe-compelling and valorous person. At this age, single-handed and with great courage, he rescued a younger brother from a crowd of stone-throwers. After this affray we find him in Bologna, whither he was sent by favor of the Cardinal de' Medici (afterward Pope Clement VII.) Regarding his labors with the flute at this period, he writes: "I made

"Se Dio gli darà rita il primo uomo del mondo io spero di farlo."

This man was considered the nearest rival to Buonarroti; he was made cavaliere by Pope Clement VII.

"Se io volessi descrivere le gran cose che è mi venne fatto infino a questa eta, e i gran

great advance in this maladetto sonare, but a greater progress in the art of goldsmithing." He was never reconciled to the flute, for when in Pisa he wrote that he was in a sort of human paradise-" dove io non sonai mai." After his father's death, Benvenuto never mentions flute-playing.

In the countless homicidal quarrels and brawls Cellini puts himself forward as the aggrieved party. He is conscious of no violent temper or obstinate will. Whensoever justice leaped upon him it did so senza un perche al mondo. He was firmly convinced of his physical powers and superior morality— powers that were sustained by a hidden coat of mail and a challenging blade of steel; a morality that allowed him to speak with delight about his persistent and successful vendettas, stabs in the dark, mean revenges, cruelty and spite. He considered himself his own authority in morals; justified every act of his life, enjoyed his answers to pope and prince-and his midnight assassinations. He could tolerate no opposition to himself, no criticism of his deeds. His affrays, in large part, were born of a false honor, though he says he was moved by a collera grandissima. By no allowance of charity can he be made a giovane molto virtuoso-words he put into the mouth of the Prinzivalle who defended him before the Eight Signori for his attack on the Guasconti.†

In Florence, Cellini's reputation was not savory. Whatever punishment he received in the course of his stay there was the result not of politics, envy, nor prejudice, but of justice. In Rome, also, his imprisonments were not without good cause. Justice was not asleep at this age, despite countless assertions to the contrary. Rome was always firm, and nearly always just in its punishments. Cellini; in making a martyr of himself, has naturally painted the whole social fabric of his time in the most violent lights and shadows. He tells us that, after his release from the dungeons of San Angelo, a halo played above his head. He regarded it as a sign of his sanctity, and as a rebuke to the cardinals and the pope. Of the latter he is never sure. At one time he considers the Vicar of Christ as an awful representation of Divine Majesty," at another as a pessima bestia." Confusion rose in his mind regarding every subject but his art. And in everything but his art there is

See page 28 Memoirs.

This was his first homicidal affray. He excused his blow by saying that it was nothing

contradiction. He has bared his character to public scrutiny in the work of his hand. And the confession is a lamentable one. Cellini's skill in the art of goldsmithing received early recognition at the court in Rome. By indefatigable will and perseverance he attained success in the art of enamelling, in the making of medals, and of paci. The highest ecclesiastical and lay personages employed him to fashion jewels, ornaments, and services of plate. It was during this period of his life that Rome was carried by assault, and the Papal court besieged in the castle of San Angelo. Despite his extravagant self-praise, there is no doubt that Cellini gave a good account of himself in defence of Pope Clement. When Rome had settled again into the ways of peace, Cellini returned to Florence to find that his father had died of the plague. A brother and sister survived. This brother, Cecchino, was afterward killed by a musketeer in Rome, and was avenged by Benvenuto in short order. The affray caused Cellini to seek the protection of the Duke of Cività di Penna. This put a stop to his work on the crown jewels, so that the whole matter was brought to the ears of Pope Clement. At this point in his memoirs Cellini makes the pope say: "Now that you have regained your health, Benvenuto, have a care of yourself." And on the strength of this, Symonds remarks: "This shows how little they thought of homicide in Rome" a statement at once insinuating and unjust. This tart fling at Papal conscience is given solely on the authority of Cellini, who was, as Symonds himself admits, a braggart shorn of all respect and virtue. This same writer (Symonds) explains that "after killing a man some powerful protector had to be sought, who was usually a cardinal, since the cardinals had right of sanctuary in their palaces. There the assassin lay in hiding in order to avoid his victim's friends and relatives, until such time as a pardon and safe-conduct and absolution had been obtained from his holiness." The student is here forced upon several strange conclusions: Among them (1) that the cardinals were a body of men given to the harboring of vicious criminals. (2) That such protection was sufficient to quiet the vengence of the victim's friends and relatives. (3) That the pope was in the habit of freely pardoning these crimes against society, issuing cards of safe-conduct to assassins, and, strangest of all, granting absolution as a matter of form and