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Book FirstPart LXXXIV
Part LXXXIV
Four days had passed when I was attacked with violent fever attended by
extreme cold; and taking to my bed, I made my mind up that I was sure to die.
I had the first doctors of Rome called in, among whom was Francesco da Norcia,
a physician of great age, and of the best repute in Rome. ^1 I told them what I
believed to be the cause of my illness, and said that I had wished to let
blood, but that I had been advised against it; and if it was not too late, I
begged them to bleed me now. Maestro Francesco answered that it would not be
well for me to let blood then, but that if I had done so before, I should have
escaped without mischief; at present they would have to treat the case with
other remedies. So they began to doctor me as energetically as they were able,
while I grew daily worse and worse so rapidly, that after eight days the
physicians despaired of my life, and said that I might be indulged in any whim
I had to make me comfortable. Maestro Francesco added: "As long as there is
breath in him, call me at all hours; for no one can divine what Nature is able
to work in a young man of this kind; moreover, if he should lose
consciousness, administer these five remedies one after the other, and send
for me, for I will come at any hour of the night; I would rather save him than
any of the cardinals in Rome."
[Footnote 1: Francesco Fusconi, physician to Popes Adrian VI., Clement VII.,
and Paul III.]
Every day Messer Giovanni Gaddi came to see me two or three times, and
each time he took up one or other of my handsome fowling-pieces, coats of
mail, or swords, using words like these: "That is a handsome thing, that other
is still handsomer;" and likewise with my models and other trifles, so that at
last he drove me wild with annoyance. In his company came a certain Matio
Franzesi ^2 and this man also appeared to be waiting impatiently for my death,
not indeed because he would inherit anything from me, but because he wished
for what his master seemed to have so much at heart.
[Footnote 2: Franzesi was a clever Italian poet. His burlesque Capitoli are
printed with those of Berni and others.]
Felice, my partner, was always at my side, rendering the greatest
services which it is possible for one man to give another. Nature in me was
utterly debilitated and undone; I had not strength enough to fetch my breath
back if it left me; and yet my brain remained as clear and strong as it had
been before my illness. Nevertheless, although I kept my consciousness, a
terrible old man used to come to my bedside, and make as though he would drag
me by force into a huge boat he had with him. This made me call out to my
Felice to draw near and chase that malignant old man away. Felice, who loved
me most affectionately, ran weeping and crying: "Away with you, old traitor;
you are robbing me of all the good I have in this world." Messer Giovanni
Gaddi, who was present, then began to say: "The poor fellow is delirious, and
has only a few hours to live." His fellow, Mattio Franzesi, remarked: "He has
read Dante, and in the prostration of his sickness this apparition has
appeared to him" ^3 then he added laughingly: "Away with you, old rascal, and
don`t bother our friend Benvenuto." When I saw that they were making fun of
me, I turned to Messer Gaddi and said: "My dear master, know that I am not
raving, and that it is true that this old man is really giving me annoyance;
but the best that you can do for me would be to drive that miserable Mattio
from my side, who is laughing at my affliction, afterwards if your lordship
deigns to visit me again, let me beg you to come with Messer Antonio
Allegretti, or with Messer Annibal Caro, or with some other of your
accomplished friends, who are persons of quite different intelligence and
discretion from that beast." Thereupon Messer Giovanni told Mattio in jest to
take himself out of his sight for ever; but because Mattio went on laughing,
the joke turned to earnest, for Messer Giovanni would not look upon him again,
but sent for Messer Antonio Allegretti, Messer Ludovico, and Messer Annibal
Caro. On the arrival of these worthy men, I was greatly comforted, and talked
reasonably with them awhile, not however without frequently urging Felice to
drive the old man away. Messer Ludovico asked me what it was I seemed to see,
and how the man was shaped. While I portrayed him accurately in words, the old
man took me by the arm and dragged me violently towards him. This made me cry
out for aid, because he was going to fling me under hatches in his hideous
boat. On saying that last word, I fell into a terrible swoon, and seemed to be
sinking down into the boat. They say that during that faintingfit I flung
myself about and cast bad words at Messer Giovanni Gaddi, to wit, that he came
to rob me, and not from any motive of charity, and other insults of the kind,
which caused him to be much ashamed. Later on, they say I lay still like one
dead; and after waiting by me more than an hour, thinking I was growing cold,
they left me for dead. When they returned home, Mattio Franzesi was informed,
who wrote to Florence to Messer Benedetto Varchi, my very dear friend, that
they had seen me die at such and such an hour of the night. When he heard the
news, that most accomplished man and my dear friend composed an admirable
sonnet upon my supposed but not real death, which shall be reported in its
proper place.
[Footnote 3: Inferno, iii., the verses about Charon.]
More than three long hours passed, and yet I did not regain
consciousness. Felice having used all the remedies prescribed by Maestro
Francesco, and seeing that I did not come to, ran post-haste to the
physician`s door, and knocked so loudly that he woke him up, and made him
rise, and begged him with tears to come to the house, for he thought that I
was dead. Whereto Maestro Francesco, who was a very choleric man, replied: "My
son, of what use do you think I should be if I came? If he is dead, I am more
sorry than you are. Do you imagine that if I were to come with my medicine I
could blow breath up through his guts ^4 and bring him back to life for you?"
But when he saw that the poor young fellow was going away weeping, he called
him back and gave him an oil with which to anoint my pulses, and my heart,
telling him to pinch my little fingers and toes very tightly, and to send at
once to call him if I should revive. Felice took his way, and did as Maestro
Francesco had ordered. It was almost bright day when, thinking they would have
to abandon hope, they gave orders to have my shroud made and to wash me.
Suddenly I regained consciousness, and called out to Felice to drive away the
old man on the moment, who kept tormenting me. He wanted to send for Maestro
Francesco, but I told him not to do so, but to come close up to me, because
that old man was afraid of him and went away at once. So Felice drew near to
the bed; I touched him, and it seemed to me that the infuriated old man
withdrew; so I prayed him not to leave me for a second.
[Footnote 4: Io ali possa soffiare in culo.]
When Maestro Francesco appeared, he said it was his dearest wish to save
my life, and that he had never in all his days seen greater force in a young
man than I had. Then he sat down to write, and prescribed for me perfumes,
lotions, unctions, plasters, and a heap of other precious things. Meanwhile I
came to life again by the means of more than twenty leeches applied to my
buttocks, but with my body bore through, bound, and ground to powder. Many of
my friends crowded in to behold the miracle of the resuscitated dead man, and
among them people of the first importance.
In their presence I declared that the small amount of gold and money I
possessed, perhaps some eight hundred crowns, what with gold, silver, jewels,
and cash, should be given by my will to my poor sister in Florence, called
Mona Liperata; all the remainder of my property, armour and everything
besides, I left to my dearest Felice, together with fifty golden ducats, in
order that he might buy mourning. At those words Felice flung his arms around
my neck, protesting that he wanted nothing but to have me as he wished alive
with him. Then I said: "If you want me alive, touch me as you did before, and
threaten the old man, for he is afraid of you." At these words some of the
folk were terrified, knowing that I was not raving, but talking to the purpose
and with all my wits. Thus my wretched malady went dragging on, and I got but
little better. Maestro Francesco, that most excellent man, came four or five
times a day; Messer Giovanni Gaddi, who felt ashamed, did not visit me again.
My brother-in-law, the husband of my sister, arrived; he came from
Florence for the inheritance; but as he was a very worthy man, he rejoiced
exceedingly to have found me alive. The sight of him did me a world of good,
and he began to caress me at once, saying he had only come to take care of me
in person; and this he did for several days. Afterwards I sent him away,
having almost certain hope of my recovery. On this occasion he left the sonnet
of Messer Benedetto Varchi, which runs as follows: ^5
[Footnote 5: This sonnet is so insipid, so untrue to Cellini`s real place in
art, so false to the far from saintly character of the man, that I would
rather have declined translating it, had I not observed it to be a good
example of that technical and conventional insincerity which was invading
Italy at this epoch. Varchi was really sorry to hear the news of Cellini`s
death; but for his genuine emotion he found spurious vehicles of utterance.
Cellini, meanwhile, had a right to prize it, since it revealed to him what
friendship was prepared to utter after his decease.]
"Who shall, Mattio, yield our pain relief?
Who shall forbid the sad expense of tears?
Alas! `tis true that in his youthful years
Our friend hath flown, and left us here to grief.
"He hath gone up to heaven, who was the chief
Of men renowned in art`s immortal spheres;
Among the mighty dead he had no peers,
Nor shall earth see his like, in my belief.
"O gentle sprite! if love still sway the blest,
Look down on him thou here didst love, and view
These tears that mourn my loss, not thy great good.
"There dost thou gaze on His beatitude
Who made our universe, and findest true
The form of Him thy skill for men expressed."
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