Introduction to the autobiography of Benvenuto Celini Volume 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The autobiography of Benvenuto Celini Volume 1. Translated by John Eddington Simons. Introduction Celini Introductory Sonnet and Note Introductory Sonnet This tale of my sore troubled life I have wrought To thank the God of nature who conveyed My soul to me, and with such care has stayed The diverse noble deeds I have wrought to light It was he subdued my cruel fortune's spite Life, glory, virtue, measureless has made Such grace worth beauty Be through me displayed That few can rival, none surpass me quite Only it grieves me when I understand What precious time in vanity I have spent The wind it beards man's frail thoughts away Yet since remorse avails not I'm content As erst I came, welcome to go one day Here in the flower of this fertile land Introductory Note Amongst the vast number of men Who have sought fit to write down The history of their own lives Three or four have achieved masterpieces Which stand out preeminently St. Augustine in his confessions Samuel Pepis in his diary Rousseau in his confessions It is among these extraordinary documents And unsurpassed by any of them That the autobiography of Benvenuto Celini Takes its place The life of himself which Celini wrote As due to other motives than those Which produced its chief competitors For first place in its class Signed Augustine's aim with religious and didactic Pepis noted down in his diaries The daily events of his life For his soul's satisfaction and with no intention That any one should read the cipher In which they were recorded But Celini wrote that the world might know After he was dead what a fellow he had been What great things he had attempted And against what odds he had carried them through All men he held whatever be their condition Who have done anything of merit Or which barely has a semblance of merit If so be they are men of truth and good repute Should write the tale of their life With their own hand That he had done many things of merit He had no manner of doubt His repute was great in his day And perhaps good in the sense In which he meant goodness As to whether he was a man of truth There is still dispute among scholars Of some misrepresentations Some suppression of damaging facts There seems to be evidence only to a good a man With Celini's passion for proving himself in the right Could hardly have avoided being guilty of such But of the general trustworthiness of his record Of the kind of man he was And the kind of life he led There is no reasonable doubt The period covered by the autobiography Is from Celini's birth in 1500 to 1562 The scene is mainly in Italy and France Of the great events of the time The time of the reformation and the counter reformation Of the strife of Pope and Emperor and King We get only glimpses The leaders in these events Appear in the foreground of the picture Only would they come into personal relations With the hero and then Not mainly as statesmen or warriors But as connoisseurs and patrons of art Such an event as the Sack of Rome It described because Benevento himself Fought in it Much more complete is the view He gives of the artistic life of the time It was the age of Michelangelo And in the throng of great artists Which then filled the Italian cities Celini was no inconsiderable figure Michelangelo himself he knew and endured Nowhere can we gain a better idea Than in this book Of the passionate enthusiasm For the creation of beauty Which has bestowed upon the Italy Of the renaissance in its greatest glory Benevento is the impression We receive of the social life Of the 16th century Of its violence and licentiousness Of its zeal for fine craftsmanship Of its abounding vitality Its versatility and its idealism For Celini himself is an epitome Of that century This man who tells here the story Of his life was a murderer and a braggart Insolent, sensual, inordinately Proud and passionate But he was also a worker in gold And silver, rejoicing in delicate Chasing and subtle modelling Of precious surfaces, a sculptor And a musician And as all who read his book Must testify, a great master Of narrative, keen as was Benevento's interest in himself And much as he loved to dwell On the splendour of his exploits and achievements He had little idea That centuries after his death He would live again Less by his perseus And his goldsmith's work Than by the book which he dictated casually To a lad of fourteen While he went about his work The autobiography Was composed between 1558 And 1566 But it brings the record down Only to 1562 The remainder of Celini's life Seems to have been somewhat more peaceful In 1565 He married Piarra de Salvador Parigi A servant Who had nursed him when he was sick And in the care of his children As earlier of his sister and nieces He showed more tenderness Than might have been expected from a man Of his boisterous nature He died at Florence, May 13th, 1571 And was buried in the church of the Annoziata In that city End of introduction Chapters 1 through 6 Of the autobiography Of Benvenuto Celini, volume 1 This is the LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information Or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The autobiography Of Benvenuto Celini, volume 1 Translated by John Eddington Simons Chapters 1 to 6 1 All men of whatsoever qualities they be Who have done anything of excellence Or which may properly resemble excellence Or what if they are persons of truth And honesty To describe their life With their own hand But they ought not To attempt so fine an enterprise Till they have passed the age of 40 The duty occurs to my own mind Now that I am traveling beyond the term of 58 years And am in Florence The city of my birth Many untold things Can I remember Such as happen to all who live upon our earth And from those adversities I am now more free Than at any previous period of my career Nay, it seems to me That I enjoy greater content Of soul and health of body That ever I did In bygone years I can also bring to mind Some pleasant goods And some inestimable evils Which, when I turn my soul to backward Strike terror in me And astonishment that I should Have reached this age of 58 Wherein, thanks be to God I am still traveling Prosperously forward 2. It is true That men who have laboured With some show of excellence Have already given knowledge Of themselves to the world And this alone ought to suffice them I mean the fact That they have proved their manhood And achieved renown Yet one must need to live like others And so in a work like this There will always be found occasion For natural bragging Which is of diverse kinds And the first is that a man Should let others know He draws his lineage from persons of wars And most ancient origin I am called Benvenuto Celini Son of Maestro Giovanni Son of Andrea Son of Cristofano Celini My mother was Madonna Elizabetha Daughter to Stefano Granacci Both parents, citizens of Florence It is found written in her It is found written in chronicles Made by our ancestors of Florence Men of old time And of credibility Even as Giovanni Villani writes That the city of Florence Was evidently built in imitation Of the fair city of Rome And certain remnants of the Colosseum And the baths can yet be traced These things are near Santa Croce The capital was where Is now the old market The rotonda is entire Which was made for the Temple of Mars And is now dedicated To our Saint John But thus this was Can very well be seen And cannot be denied But the set buildings are much smaller Than those of Rome He who calls them to be built They say was Julius Caesar In concert with some noble Romans Who, when Fiesoli had been stormed And taken, raised a city in this place And each of them took in hand To erect one of these notable edifices Julius Caesar had among his captains A man of highest rank and valor Who was called Fiorini of Celino Which is a village about two miles Distant from Montefiascone Now this Fiorino took up Of his quarters under the hill Of Fiesoli on the ground Where Florence now stands In order to be near the river Arno And for the convenience of the troops And for the convenience of the troops And for the convenience of the troops All those soldiers and others Who had to do with the said captain Used them to say Let us go to Fiorinze As well because the said captain Was called Fiorino As also because the place He had chosen for his quarters Was by nature very rich in flowers Upon the foundation of the city Therefore, since this name Struck Julius Caesar As being fair and apt And given by circumstance And seeing far more The flowers themselves bring good augury He appointed the name of Florence For the town He wished besides To pay his valiant captain this compliment And he loved him all the more For having drawn him from a very humble place And for the reason That so excellent a man Was a creature of his own The names that learned inventors And investigators of such etymologies Adduce as that Florence Is flowing at the arno Cannot hold Seeing that Rome is flowing at the typer Ferrara is flowing at the pole Lyons is flowing at the sown Paris is flowing at the seam And yet the names of all these towns Are different and have come to them By other ways Thus then we find And thus we believe that we are Descendant from a man of worth Furthermore, we find That there are salinis of our stock In Ravenna That most ancient town of Italy Where too are plenty of gentle folk In Pisa Also there are some And I have discovered them in many parts Of Christendom And in this state also the breed exists Men devoted to the profession of arms For not many years ago A young man called Luca Cellini A beardless youth Fought with a soldier of experience And the most valorous man Named Francesco Davicorati Who had frequently fought before In single combat This Luca, by his own valor With sword in hand overcame and slew him With such bravery and stoutness That he moved the folk to wonder Who were expecting quite the contrary issue So that a glory in tracing My descent from men of valor As for the trifling owners Which I have gained for my house Under the well-known conditions Of our present ways of living And by means of my art Albeit the same are matters of no great moment I will relate these In their proper time and place Taking much more pride In having been born humble And having laid some honorable foundation For my family Than if I had been born of great lineage And had stained or overclouded That by my base qualities So then I will make a beginning By saying how it pleased God To be born Chapter 3 My ancestors dwelt in Walt Ambra Where they owned large estates And lived like little lords in retirement However, on account of the then Contending factions They were all men devoted to arms And of notable bravery In that time one of their sons The younger, who was called Cristofano Roused a great void With certain of their friends and neighbors Now the heads of the families And both sides took part in it And the fire kindled seem to them So threatening That their houses were like to perish utterly The elders upon this consideration In concert with my own ancestors Removed Cristofano And the other youth With whom he quarreled Began was also sent away They sent their young men to Siena Our folk sent Cristofano to Florence And there they bought For him a little house in Via Chiara Close to the convent of St. Orsola And they also purchased for him Some very good property Near the Ponte Arifredi The Seth Cristofano took wife In Florence and had sons and daughters And when all the daughters Had been portioned of The sons, after their father's death Divided what remained The house in Via Chiara With some other trifles Felt as a share of one Of the said sons Who had the name of Andrea He also took wife And had four male children The first was called Girolamo The second Bartolomeo The third Giovanni Who was afterwards my father And the fourth Francesco This Andrea Cilini Was very well versed in architecture And it was then practised And lived by it as his trade Giovanni, who was my father Paid more attention to it Than any of the other brothers And since, with true views says Amongst other things That one who wishes to practise the art Well must have something of music And good drawing Giovanni, when he had mastered drawing Began to turn his mind to music And together with the theory Learned to play most excellent On the vial and the flute And being a person of studious habits He left his home but southern They had four neighbour In the same house a man Called Stefano Granacci Who had several daughters All of them of remarkable beauty As it pleased God Giovanni noticed one of these girls Who was named Elisabetta And she found such favour with him That he asked her in marriage The fathers of both of them Being well acquainted Through their close neighbourhood It was easy to make this match up And each thought that He had very well arranged his affairs First of all The two good old men agreed upon the marriage Then they began to discuss the dowry Which led to a certain amount Of friendly difference For Andrea said to Stefano My son Giovanni is the Stoutest youth of Florence And of all Italy to boot And if I had wanted earlier To have him married I have procured one of the largest Doaries which folk of our rank Get in Florence Whereupon Stefano answered You have a thousand reasons on your side But here I am with five daughters And as many sons And when my reckoning is made This is as much as I can possibly Afford Giovanni who had been listening A while unseen by a son Suddenly broke in and said Oh my father I have sought and loved that girl And not their money Ill luck to those who seek to fill their pockets By the dowry of their wife As you have boasted that I am a fellow Of such parts Do you not think that I shall be able To provide for my wife And satisfy her needs Even if I receive something short of the portion You would like to get Now I must make you understand That the woman is mine And you may take the dowry for yourself Andrea Zellini who was a man Of rather awkward temper Grew a trifle angry But after a few days Giovanni took his wife And never asked for other portion as her They enjoyed their youth and wedded love Through eighteen years Always greatly desiring to be blessed with children At the end of this time Giovanni's wife miscarried Of two boys through the unskillfulness Of the doctors Later on she was again this child And gave birth to a girl Whom they called Cosa After the mother of my father At the end of two years She was once more with child And inasmuch as those longings To which pregnant women are subject And to which they pay much attention Were now exactly the same As those of her former pregnancy They made their minds up That she would give birth To a female as before And agreed to call the child Reparata After the mother of my mother It happened that she was delivered On a night of all sayings Following the feast day At half past four precisely In the year fifteen oh oh The midwife who knew That they were expecting a girl After she had washed the baby And wrapped it in the first white linen Came softly to my father Giovanni And said I am bringing you a fine present My father Who was a true philosopher Was walking up and down in Ansford What God gives me Is always dear to me And when he opened the swaddling clothes He saw with his own eyes The unexpected male child Joining together the palms Of his old hands He raised them with his eyes to God And said Lord I thank thee with my whole heart This gift is very dear to me Let him be welcome All the persons who were there Asked him joyfully what name the child should bear Giovanni would make no other Ansford then Let him be welcome benvenuto And so they resolved And this name was given me At holy baptism And by it I still am living With the grace of God Chapter four Andrea Zellini was yet alive When I was about three years old And he had passed his hundreds One day they had been altering A certain conduit pertaining to a cistern And they were issued from it a great scorpion And perceived by them Which crept down from the cistern to the ground And slank away beneath the bench I saw it and run up to it And laid my hands upon it It was so big that when I had it In my little hands It put out its tail on one side And on the other thrust forth Both its mouths They relate that I ran In high joy to my grandfather crying out Look, grandpapa At my pretty little crab When he recognized that the creature was a scorpion He was on the point of falling dead For the great fear he had An anxiety about me He coaxed and entreated me to give it him But the more he begged The tighter I clasped it Crying and saying I would not give it to anyone My father, who was also in the house Ran up when he heard my screams And in his tupefaction Could not think how to prevent The venomous animal from killing me Just then his eyes Changed to fall upon a pair of scissors And so, while soothing And caressing me He cut its tail and mouth soft Afterwards, when the great peril Had been thus averted He took the occurrence for a good augury When I was about five years old My father happened to be in a basement chamber Of our house Where they had been washing And there a good fire of oak logs Was still burning He had a while in his hand And was playing and singing alone Beside the fire The weather was very cold Happening to look into the fire He spied in the middle of those Most burning flames A little creature like a lizard Which was sporting in the core Of the closest calls Becoming instantly aware Of what the thing was He had my sister and me called And pointing it out to us children Gave me a great box on the ears Which caused me to hole and weep With all my might Then he pacified me good humoredly And spoke as follows My dear little boy I'm not striking you for any wrongs That you have done But only to make you remember That the tree in the fire Is a salamander A creature which has never been seen before By any one of whom We have credible information So saying he kissed me And gave me some pieces of money Chapter 5 My father began teaching me To play upon the flute And sing by note By notwithstanding I was Of that tender age When little children are wanted And an expressible dislike for it And played and sang only to obey him My father in those times Fashioned wonderful organs With pipes of wood, spinets Of the fairest and most excellent Which then could be seen Vials and loots and harps Of the most beautiful and perfect construction He was an engineer And had marvelous skill In making instruments for lowering bridges And for working mills And other machines of that sort In ivory he was the first Who brought really well But after he had fallen in love With the woman who was destined To become my mother Perhaps what brought them together Was that little flute To which indeed he paid more attention Than was proper He was entreated by the fifers Of the scenery to play in their company Accordingly he did so For some time to amuse himself Until by constant opportunity They induced him to become a member Of their band Lorenzo de Medici and Pietro his son Who had a great liking for him Perceived later on That he was devoting himself wholly to the five And was neglecting his fine Engineering talent And his beautiful art So they had him removed from that post My father took this very ill And it seemed to him That they had done him a great despite Yet he immediately resumed his art And fashioned a mirror About a cupid in diameter Out of bone and ivory With figures and foliage Of great finish and grand design The mirror was in the form of a wheel And the middle was a looking glass Around it were seven circular pieces On which were the seven virtues Carved and joined of ivory and black bone The whole mirror Together with the virtues Was placed in equilibrium So that when the wheel turned All the virtues moved And they had weights at their feet To keep them upright Possessing some acquaintance With the Latin tongue He put a legend in Latin Around his this looking glass To this effect With her so ever The wheel of fortune turns Virtue stands firm upon her feet Rotasum Semper Cuaco me verto A little while after this He obtained his place again Among the pifers Although some of these things happened Before I was born My familiarity with them has moved me To set them down here In those days the musicians of the scenery Were all of them members Of the most honorable trades And some of them belonged to the greater Guilds of silk and wool And that was the reason Why my father did not disdain My profession And his chief desire with regard to me Was always that I should become A great performer on the flute I for my part Felt never more discontented than When he chose to talk to me about the scheme And to tell me that If I liked He discerned in me such aptitudes That I might become the best man in the world Chapter 6 As I have said My father was a devoted servant And a attached friend of the house of Medici And when Piero was banished He entrusted him with many affairs Of the greatest possible importance Afterwards When the magnificent Piero Soderini was elected And my father continued In his office of musician Soderini Perceiving his wonderful talent Began to employ him in many Matters of great importance as an engineer So long as Soderini remained in Florence He showed the utmost good will To my father And in those days I being still of tender age My father had me carried And made me perform upon the flute I used to play treble In concert with the musicians Of the palace before the scenery Following my notes And a beatle used to carry me upon his shoulders The gonfalonier That is Soderini Whom I have already mentioned Took much pleasure in making me chatter And gave me confets And was one to say to my father Maestro Giovanni Besides music Teach the boy those other arts Which do you so much honour To which my father answered I do not wish him to practice any art But playing and composing For in this profession I hope to make him the greatest man Of the world If God prolongs his life To these words one of the old conciliers Make answer Oh Maestro Giovanni Do what the gonfalonier tells you Or why should he never become Anything more than a good musician Thus sometime passed Until the Medici returned When they arrived The Cardinal Who afterwards became Pope Leo Received my father very kindly During their exile The Scatchons Which were on the palace of the Medici Their bowls erased And the Great Red Cross painted over them Which was the bearing of the Commune Accordingly As soon as they returned The Red Cross was scratched out And on the Scatchons the Red Balls And the Golden Field were painted in again And finished with great beauty My father who possessed A simple wane of poetry Instilled in him by nature Together with a certain touch of prophecy Which was doubtless a divine gift in him Wrote these four verses Under the said arms of the Medici When they were uncovered to the view These arms Which have so long from sight been led Beneath the Holy Cross That symbol meek Now lifts their glorious glad face And seek With Peter's sacred cloak to be arrayed This epigram was read By all Florence A few days afterwards Pope Julius II died The cardinal of the Medici went to Rome And was elected Pope against The expectation of everybody He reigned as Leo X That generous and great soul My father sent him his four prophetic verses The Pope sent to tell him to come to Rome For this would be to his advantage But he had no will to go And so, in lieu of reward His place in the palace was taken From him by Giacopo Salviati Upon that man's election Has gone far near This was the reason Why I commenced Goldsmith After which I spent part of my time In learning that art And part in playing much against my will End of chapters 1 through 6 Chapters 7 through 11 Of the autobiography Of Benvenuto Zillini, volume 1 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org The autobiography of Benvenuto Zillini, volume 1 Translated by John Eddington Simons Chapters 7 through 11 Chapter 7 When my father spoke to me In the way I have above described I entreated him to let me draw A certain fixed number of hours in the day All the rest of my time I would give to music Only with the view of satisfying his desire Upon this he said to me So then you take no pleasure in playing To which I answered no Because that art seemed too base In comparison with what I had in my own mind My good father, driven to despair By this fixed idea of mine Placed me in the workshop of Cavalier Bandinelo's father Who was called Michel Angnolo A goldsmith from Pince di Monte And a master excellent in that craft He had no distinction of birth whatever But was the son of a car-call seller This is no blame to Bandinelo Who was founded the owner of the family If only he had done so honestly However that may be I have no cause now to talk about him After I had stayed there some days My father took me away from Michel Angnolo Finding himself unable to live Without having me always under his eyes Accordingly much to my discontent I remained at music till I reached the age of fifteen If I were to describe all the wonderful things That happened to me up to that time And all the great dangers to my own life which I ran I should astound my readers But in order to avoid prolixity And having very much to relate I will admit this incidence When I reached the age of fifteen I put myself against my father's will To the goldsmith's trade with a man called Antonio Son of Sandro Known commonly as Marconi The goldsmith He was the most excellent craftsman And a very good fellow to boot High spirited and frank in all his ways My father would not let him give me wages Like the other apprentices For having taken up the study of this art To please myself He wished me to indulge My will for drawing to the full I did so willingly enough And that honest master of mine Took marvelous delight in my performances He had an only son, a bastard To whom he often gave his orders In order to spare me My liking for the art was so great Or I may truly say my natural bias Both one and the other That in a few months I caught up the good In the best young craftsman in our business And began to reap the fruits of my labours I did not have ever neglect To gratify my good father from time to time By playing on the flute or cornet Each time he heard me I used to make his tears fall accompanied With deep draw size of satisfaction My filial piety Often made me give him that contentment And induced me to pretend That I enjoyed the music too Chapter 8 At that time I had a brother Younger by two years A use of extreme boldness and fierce temper He afterwards became one of the great soldiers In the school of that marvelous general Giovannino de Medici, father of Duke Cosimo The boy was about fourteen And I two years older One Sunday evening, just before nightfall He happened to find himself between the gate Sangallo and the porta Appinti In this quarter he came to duel With the young fellow of twenty or thereabouts They both had swords And my brother dealt so valiantly that After having badly wounded him He was upon the point of following up His advantage There was a great crowd of people present Among whom were many of the adversaries Kinsfolk Seeing that this thing was going ill One man They put hand to their slings A stone from one of which hit my poor brother In the head He fell to the ground at once In a dead faint It so chance that I had been upon the spot alone And without arms And I had done my best to get my brother out Of the fray By calling to him Make off, you have done enough Meanwhile, as luck would have it He fell, as I have said At once seized his sword And stood in front of him Bearing the brunt of several rapiers And the shower of stones I never left his side until some brave soldiers Came from the gate Sangallo And rescued me from the ranging crowd They marvelled watch Of the while to find such weller In a young aboy Then I carried my brother home for dead And it was only with great difficulty That he came to himself again When he was cured The eight Who had already condemned out adversaries And banished them for a term of years Sent us also into exile For six months At the distance of ten miles From Florence I said to my brother Come along with me And so we took leave of our poor father And instead of giving us money For he had none He bestowed on us his blessing I went to Siena A certain worthy man Called Maestro Francesco Castoro On another occasion When I had run away from my father I went to this good man And stayed some time with him Working at the Goldsmith's trade Until my father sent for me back Francesco, when I reached him Recognized me at once And gave me work to do While thus occupied He placed a house at my disposal For the whole time Into this I moved Together with my brother And applied myself to labor For the space of several months My brother had acquired the rudiments of Latin But was still so young That he could not yet relish The taste of virtuous employment But passed his time with dissipation Chapter 9 The Cardinal de Medici Who afterwards became Pope Clement VII Had us recalled to Florence At the entreaty of my father A certain pupil of my father's Moved by his own bad nature Suggested to the Cardinal That he ought to send me to Bologna In order to learn to play well From a great master there The name of this master was Antonio And he was in truth A worthy man in the musician's art The Cardinal said to my father Then If he sent me there He would give me letters of recommendation Of support My father, dying with joy At such an opportunity, sent me off And I, being eager to see the world Went with good grace When I reached Bologna I put myself under a certain maestro Ercolo del Pifero And began to earn something by my trade In the meantime I used to go every day To take my music lesson And in a few weeks made considerable progress In that accursed art However, I made still greater in my trade of gold smith For the Cardinal Having given me no assistance I went to live with a Bolognese illuminator Who was called Scipione Cavalletti His house was in the street Of our lady Delbaracan And while there I devoted myself to drawing And working for one Graziadio A Jew, whom I earned considerably At the end of six months I returned to Florence Hello Pierino, who had been my father's pupil Was greatly mortified by my return To please my father I went to his house And played the cornet and the flute With one of his brothers Who was named Girolamo Several years younger than the said Pierro A very worthy young man And quite the contrary of his brother On one of those days My father came to Pierro's house To hear his play And in ecstasy at my performance exclaimed I shall yet make you a marvelous musician Against the will of all Or anyone who may desire to prevent me To this Pierro answered And spoke the truth Jor benvenuto will get much more Honor and profit If he devotes himself to the goldsmith's trade Than to this piping These words made my father angry Seeing that I too had the same opinion As Pierro That he flew into a rage And cried out at him Well did I know that it was you You who put obstacles in the way Of my cherished wish You are the man who had me Austed from my place at the palace Paying me back with that black ingratitude Which is the usual recompense Of great benefits I got you promoted And you have got me care-shared I taught you to play With all the little art you have And you are preventing my son from obeying me But bear in mind these words Prophecy Not years or months I say But only a few weeks will pass Before this dirty ingratitude of yours Thou plunge you into ruin To these words answered Pierrino And said Maestro Giovanni The majority of men when they grow old Go mad at the same time And this had happened to you I am not astonished at it Because most liberally Have you squandered all your property Without reflecting that your children Had need of it I mind to do just the opposite And to leave my children so much That she shall be able to sucker yours To this my father answered No bad tree ever bore good fruit Quite the contrary And I tell you further that you are bad And that your children will be mad And poppers And will cringe for alms To my virtues and wealthy sons Thereupon we left the house Matering words of anger on both sides I had taken my father's part And when we stepped into this tree together I told him I was quite ready To take vengeance for the insults Heaped on him by that scoundrel Provided he permit me To give myself up to the art of design He answered My dear son I too in my time was a good droatsman But for recreation After such stupendous labours And for the love of me Who am your father Who begot you and brought you up And implanted so many honourable talents in you For the sake of recreation I say Will not you promise sometimes To take in hand your flute And that seductive cornet And to play upon them to your heart's content Inviting the delight of music I promised I would do so And very willingly for his love's sake Then my good father said That such excellent parts I possessed Would be the greatest vengeance I could take for the insults of his enemies Not a whole month Had been completed after this scene Before the man Pirino Happened to be building a vault In a house of his Which he had in the Via dello studio And being one day in a ground floor Room above the vault Which he was making Together was much company around him He fell to talking about his old master My father While repeating the words which he had said To him concerning his ruin No sooner had they escaped his lips Than the floor where he was standing Either because the vault had been badly built Or rather through the sheer mightiness of God Who does not always pay on Saturday Suddenly gay away Some of the stones and bricks of the vault Which fell with him Broke both his legs The friends who were with him Remaining on the border of the broken vault Took no harm But were astounded and full of wonder Especially because of the prophecy Which he had just contemptuously repeated to them When my father heard of this He took his sword And went to see the man There are in the presence of his father Who was called Nicolayo de Volterra A trumpeter of the scenery He said O Pirino, my dear pupil I am sorely grieved at your mischance But if you remember It was only a short time ago That I warned you of it And as much as I then said Will come to happen between your children and mine Shortly afterwards The ungrateful Pirro Died of that illness He loved a wife Of bad character and one son Who after the lapse of some years Came to me to beg for alms in Rome I gave him something As well because it is my nature to be charitable As also because I recalled With tears the happy state Which Pirino held when my father Spake those words of prophecy Namely, that Pirino's children Would live to crave Sucker from his own virtuous sons Of this perhaps Enough is now said But let none ever love At the prognostications of any worthy man Whom he has wrongfully insulted Because it is not he Who speaks, nay But the very voice of God Through him CHAPTER X All this while I worked the goldsmith And was able to assist my good father His other son, my brother Cicino Had, as I said before Been instructed In the rudiments of Latin letters It was our father's wish To make me, the elder A great musician and composer And him, the younger And jurist He would not have ever put force Upon the inclinations of our nature Which directed me to the arts of design And my brother Who had a fine and graceful person To the profession of arms Cicino, being still quite a lad Was returning from his first lesson In the school of the Stupendous Giovannino de Medici On the day when he reached home I happened to be absent And he, being in one of proper Closes, thought out our sisters Who, unknown to my father Gave him a cloak and doubled Of mine, both new and of good Quality. I ought to say that Beside the aid I gave my father And my excellent and honest sisters I had bought those handsome Closes out of my own savings When I found I had been cheated And my clothes was taken from me And my brother for whom I should Have recovered them was gone I asked my father Why he suffered so great of wrong To be done me, seeing that I was Always ready to assist him He replied that I was his good son But that the other whom he Saw to have lost had been found Again. Also that it was a duty, nay, A precept from God himself That he who has should give To him who has not. And that for his sake I ought To bear this injustice, for God To increase me in all good things. I, like a youth without experience, Retorted on my poor afflicted parent And taking the miserable remnants Of my clothes and money Went toward a gate of the city. As I did not know Which gate would start me On the road to Rome I arrived at Lucca And from Lucca reached Pisa. When I came to Pisa I was about sixteen years of age At the time I stopped near The village by what is called The fish-stone at the shop Of a goldsmith and began Attentively to watch what the master Was about. He asked me who I was And what was my profession. I told him that I worked a little In the same trade as his own. This worthy man made me come Into his shop and at once Gave me work to do and spoke As fellows. Your good appearance makes me believe In his youth. Then he told me out gold, silver and gems And when the first day's work was finished He took me in the evening To his house where he dwelled Respectably with his handsome wife And children. Thinking of the grief which my good father Might be feeling for me I wrote him that I was Sojourning with a very excellent And honest man called Maestro Uliveria della Chiostra And was working with him at many good Of beauty and importance. I bid him be of good cheer For that I was bent on learning And hoped by my acquirements To bring him back both profit And honor before long. My good father answered the letter At once, in words like these My son The love I bear you is so great That if it were not for the Honor of our family Which above all things I regard I should immediately have set Off for you. For indeed it seems like being without The light of my eyes when I do not See you daily as I used to do. I will make it my business To complete the training of my household Up to virtuous honesty Do you make it yours To acquire excellence in your art And I only wish you to remember These four simple words Obey them and never let them Escape your memory In whatever house you be Still not and live honestly. Chapter 11 This letter fell into the hands Of my master Olivierry And he read it unknown to me. Afterwards he abode That he had read it and added So then my benvenuto Your good looks did not deceive me As a letter from your father Which has come into my hands Gives me assurance Which proves him to be a man Consider yourself than to be at home here And as though in your own father's house While I stayed at Pisa I went to see the Campo Santo And there I found many beautiful Fragments of antiquity That is to say marble sarcophagi In other parts of Pisa Also I saw many antique objects Which I diligently studied Whenever I had days or hours free From the labor of the workshop My master who took pleasure In coming to visit me In the little room which he had allotted me Observing that I spent all my time In studious occupations Began to love me like a father I made great progress In the one year that I stayed there And completed several fine And valuable things In gold and silver Which inspired me with a resolute ambition To advance in my art My father in the meanwhile Kept writing pitches and treaties That I should return to him And in every letter bathed me Not to lose the music He had taught me with such trouble On this I suddenly gave up All wish to go back to him So much did I hate That accursed music And I felt as though of a truth Ever in paradise The whole year I stayed at Pisa Where I never played the flute At the end of the year My master Olivier had occasion To go to Florence In order to sell certain gold and silver Sweepings which he had And in as much as the bad air of Pisa Had given me a touch of fever I went with the fever hanging still About me in my master's company Back to Florence There my father received him Most affectionately Unlovingly prayed him Unknown by me Not to insist on taking me again to Pisa I was ill about two months During which time my father had me Most kindly treated and cured Always repeating that it seemed To him a thousand years Till I got well again In order that he might hear me play a little But when he talked to me of music With his fingers on my pulse Seeing he had some acquaintance With medicine and Latin learning He felt it changed so much If he approached that topic That he was often dismayed And left my side in tears When I perceived how greatly he was disappointed I bade one of my sisters bring me a flute For though the fever never left me That instrument is so easy That it did not hurt me to play upon it And I used it with such dexterity Of hand and tongue That my father coming suddenly upon me Blessed me a thousand times Exclaiming that while I was away from him I had made great progress As he sought And he begged me to go forwards And not to sacrifice so fine an accomplishment End of chapters 7 through 11 When I had recovered my health I returned to my old friend Marcone The worthy goldsmith Who put me in the way of earning money With which I helped my father and our household About that time there came to Florence A sculptor named Piero Torigiani He arrived from England Where he had resided many years And being intimate with my master He daily visited his house And when he saw my drawings And the things which I was making He said I have come to Florence to enlist As many young men as I can For I have undertaken to execute A great work of my king And want some of my own Florentines To help me Now your method of working And your designs are worthy Rather of a sculptor than a goldsmith And since I have to turn out A great piece of bronze I will at the same time Turn you into a rich and able artist This man had a splendid person And a most arrogant spirit With the air of a great soldier More than a sculptor Especially in regard to his vehement gestures And his resonant voice Together with the habit he had Of knitting his bros Enough to frighten any man of courage He kept talking every day About his gallant feats Among those beasts of Englishmen In course of conversation He happened to mention Michel Angolo Buonarotti Led thereto by a drawing I had made from a cartoon Of that divinist painter This cartoon was the first masterpiece Which Michel Angolo exhibited In proof of his stupendous talents He produced it in a competition With another painter Leonardo da Vinci Who also made a cartoon And both were intended For the council hall In the palace of the scenery They represented the taking Of Pisa by the Florentines And our admirable Leonardo Had chosen to depict A battle of horses With the capture of some standards In as divine a style As could possibly be imagined Michel Angolo in his cartoon Portrayed a number of food soldiers Who, the season being summer, Had gone to base in Arno He drew them at the very moment The alarm is sounded And the men all naked run to arms So splendid in their action That nothing survives of ancient Or of modern art Which touches the same lofty point Of excellence And as I have already said The design of the great Leonardo Was itself most admirably beautiful These two cartoons stood One in the palace of the Medici The other in the hall of the Pope So long as they remained intact They were the school of the world Though the divine Michel Angolo In later life finished The great chapel of Pope Julius He never rose half way To the same pitch of power His genius never afterwards Attained to the force Of those first studies Chapter 13 Now let us return To Pierrot Reggiani Who with my drawing in his hand Spoke as follows This Bonarotti and I used When we were boys To go into the church of the Carmine To learn drawing from the chapel Of Massaccio It was Bonarotti's habit To banter all who were drawing there And one day, among others When he was annoying me I got more angry than usual And clenching my fist Such a blow on the nose That I felt bone and cartilage go down Like biscuit beneath my knuckles And this mark of mine He will carry with him to the grave These words began In me such hatred of the man Since I was always gazing At the masterpieces of the divine Michel Angolo That although I felt a wish To go with him to England I now could never bear the sight of him All the while I was at Florence I studied the noble manner Of Michel Angolo And from this I have never deviated About that time I contracted a close and familiar friendship With an amiable lad Of my own age Who was also in the goldsmith's trade He was called Francesco Son of Filippo And grandson of Fra Lippo Lippi That most excellent painter Through intercourse together Such love grew between us The day or night we never stayed apart The house where he lived Was still full of the fine studies Which his father had made Rounded up in several books of drawings By his hand And taken from the best antiquities of Rome The sight of these things Filled me with passionate enthusiasm And for two years or thereabouts We lived in intimacy At that time I fashioned A silver bath-relief Of the size of a little child's hand It was intended for the clasp To a man's belt For they were then worn as large as that I carved on it a knot of leaves In the antique style With figures of children And other masks of great beauty This piece I made In the workshop of one Francesco Salimbene And on its being exhibited To the trade The goldsmiths praised me As the best young craftsman of their art There was one Jovan Bautista Cernamed Il Tasso A woodcarver Precisely of my own age Who one day said to me That if I was willing to go to Rome He should be glad to join me Now we had this conversation together Immediately after dinner And I, being angry with my father For the same old reason of the music Said to Tasso You are a fellow of wards not deeds He answered I too have come to anger with my mother And if I had cash enough to take me to Rome I would not turn back to lock the door Of that wretched little workshop I call mine To these wards I replied That if that was all that kept him in Florence I had money enough In my pockets to bring us both to Rome Talking thus And walking onwards We found ourselves at the gate San Piero Gattolini Without noticing That we had got there Whereupon I said Friend Tasso, this is God's doing That we have reached this gate Without either you or me noticing That we were there And now that I'm here It seems to me that I have finished half The journey And so, being of one accord We pursued our way together saying Oh, what will our old folks Say this evening We then made an agreement Not to think more about them Till we reached Rome So we tied our aprons behind our backs And trudged almost in silence to Siena When we arrived at Siena Tasso said For he had hurt his feet That he would not go farther And asked me to lend him money to get back I made an answer I should not have enough left to go forward You ought indeed to have thought of this On leaving Florence And if it is because of your feet That you shirk the journey We will find a return horse for Rome Which will deprive you of the excuse Accordingly, I hired a horse And seeing that when he did not answer I took my way towards the gate of Rome When he knew that I was firmly resolved to go Mothering between his teeth And limping as well as he could He came on behind me Very slowly and a great distance On reaching the gate I felt pity for my comrade And waited for him And took my way And waited for him And waited for him And took him on the cropper, saying What would our friends speak of us tomorrow? If having left for Rome We had not plucked to get beyond Siena Then the good Tasso said I spoke the truth And as he was a pleasant fellow He began to laugh and think And in this way Always thinking and laughing We traveled the whole way to Rome I had just nineteen years then And so had the century When we reached Rome I put myself under a master Who was known as Il Firenzola His name was Giovanni And he came from Firenzola In Lombardy A most able craftsman In large ways and big plate of that kind I showed him part of the model For the clasp Which I had made in Florence at Salimbenes It pleased him exceedingly And turning to one of his journeymen A Florentine called Gianotto Gianotti Who had been several years with him He spoke as fellows This fellow is one of the Florentines Who knows something And you are one of those Who know nothing Then I recognized the men And turned to speak with him For before he went to Rome We often went to draw together And had been very intimate comrades He was so put out By the words his master flung at him He said he did not recognize me Or know who I was Whereupon I got angry and cried out Oh Gianotto You who were once my friend For have we not been together In such and such places And drawn and ate and drunk And slept in company at your house In the country I don't want you to bear witness On my behalf to this worthy man Your master Because I hope my hands are such Without aid from you They will declare what sort of a fellow I am Chapter 14 When I had thus spoken Ferencola Who was a man of hot spirit and brave Turned to Gianotto And said to him You wild rascal Aren't you ashamed to treat a man Who has been so intimate Accommodate with you in this way And with the same movement Of quick feeling Welcome to my workshop And do as you have promised Let your hands declare what man you are He gave me a very fine piece Of silver plate to work on For a cardinal It was a little oblong box Copied from the porphyry sarcophagus Before the door of the rotonda Beside what I copied I enriched it with so many Elegant masks of my invention That my master went about showing It through the art That so good a piece of work Had been turned out from his shop It was about half a cubit in size And was so constructed As to serve for a salt seller A table This was the first earning that I touched At Rome and part of it I sent To assist my good father The rest I kept for my own use Living upon it While I went about studying The antiquities of Rome Until my money failed Had to return to the shop for work But this the deltasso my comrade Did not stay long in Rome But went back to Florence After undertaking some new commissions I took it into my head As soon as I had finished them To change my master I had indeed been worried Into doing so by a certain Milanese Called Pagolo Arsago My first master, Crianzola Had a great quarrel about this With Arsago And abused him in my presence Whereupon I took up speech In defense of my new master I said that I was born free And free I meant to live And that there was no reason To complain of him Far less of me Since some few grounds of wages Were still due to me Also that I choose to go Like a free journeyman Where it pleased me Knowing I did wrong to no man My new master then put in With his excuses Saying that he had not asked me to come And that I should gratify him By returning with Crianzola To this I replied That I was not aware of wronging the letter In any way And as I had completed his commissions I choose to be my own master And not the man of others And that he who wanted me Must beg me of myself Crianzola cried I don't intend to beg you of yourself I have done with you Don't show yourself again upon my premises I reminded him Of the money he owed me He laughed me in the face On which I said that if I knew How to use my tools in handicraft As well as he had seen I could be quite as clever with my sword In claiming the just payment Of my labor While we were exchanging these words An old man happened to come up Called Maestro Antonio of San Marino He was the chief Among the Roman goldsmiths And had been Crianzola's master Hearing what I had to say Which I took good care That he should understand He immediately esposed my cause And bade Crianzola pay me The dispute waked warm Because Crianzola was an admirable swordsman Far better than he was A goldsmith Yet reason made it so hard And I backed my cause with the same spirit Till I got myself paid In course of time Crianzola and I became friends And at his request I stood godfather to one of his children Chapter 15 I went on working with Pagolo Arsago And earned a good deal of money The greater part of which I always sent to my good father At the end of two years Upon my father's entreaty I returned to Florence And put myself once more Under Francesco Salimbeine With whom I earned a great deal And took continual pains To improve in my art I renewed my intimacy With Francesco de Filippo And though I was too much given to pleasure Owing to that accursed music I never neglected to devote Some hours of the day or night To study At that time I fashioned As it was then so called This was a girdle Three inches broad Which used to be made for brides And was executed in half relief With some small figures in the round It was a commission from a man Called Raffaello Lapaccini I was very badly paid But the owner which it brought me Was worse far more Than the gain I might have just made By it Having at this time Ever since in Florence I had come to know some worthy men Among the goldsmiths As for instance Marconi My first master But I also met with others reputed honest Who did all they could to ruin me And rob me grossly When I perceived this I left their company And held them for sieves and black guards One of the goldsmiths Called Giovanni Battista Sogliani Called Giovanni Battista Sogliani Kindly accommodated me With part of his shop Which stood at the side of the new market Near the Landis Bank There I finished several pretty pieces And made good gains And was able to give my family much help This roused the jealousy Of the bad men among my former masters Who were called Salvadori and Michela Guasconti In the guild of the goldsmiths They had three big shops And drew a thriving trade On becoming aware Of their evil will against me I complained to certain worthy fellows And remarked that they ought To have been satisfied With the severies they practiced on me Under the cloak of hypocritical kindness This coming to their ears They threatened to make me Thoroughly repent of such wards But I, good knew not What the color of fear was Paid them little or no heed Chapter 16 It chanced one day That I was leaning against a shop Of one of these men Who called out to me And began partly reproaching Partly bullying I answered that had they done their duty by me I should have spoken of them But one speaks of good and worthy men But as they had done the contrary They ought to complain of themselves And not of me While I was standing there and talking One of them named Quasconte, their cousin Having perhaps been put up to it By them, lay in wait Till a beast of burden went by It was a load of bricks When the load reached me Giharda pushed it so violently On my body, that I was very much hurt Turning suddenly round And seeing him laughing I struck him such a blow On the temple that he fell down Stand like one dead Then I faced round to his cousins And said, that's the way to Treat coverly thieves of your sword And when they wanted to make a move Upon me, thrusting to their numbers I, whose blood was now well up Layed hands to a little knife I had and cried If one of you comes out of the shop Let's either run for the confessor Because the doctor will have Nothing to do here These words so frightened them That not one stirred to help their cousin As soon as I had gone The fathers and sons run to the aid And declared that I had assaulted them In their shops with sword in hand A thing which had never yet been Seen in Florence The magistrates had me summoned I appeared before them And they began to upbraid And cry out upon me Partly I think Because they saw me in my cloak While the others were dressed Like citizens in mantle and hood But also because my adversaries Had been to the houses of those magistrates And had talked with all of them In private While I, inexperienced in such matters Had not spoken to any of them Thrusting in the goodness of my cause I said that Having received such outrage And insult from Jehardo And in my fury Having only given him a box on the ear I did not think I deserved Such a wayment reprimand I had hardly time to finish The word box before Princivala de la Stufa Who was one of the eight Interrupted me by saying You gave him a blow and not a box On the ear The bell was rung and we were all ordered Out when Princivala Spoke thus in my defence to his Outbrother judges Mark serves the simplicity Of this poor young man Who has accused himself of him giving A box on the ear under the Session that this is of less importance Than a blow Whereas a box on the ear In the new market carries a fine Of twenty-five crowns While a blow costs little or nothing He is a young man Of admirable talents And supports his poor family By his labour and great abundance I would to God that our city Had plenty of this sort Instead of the present dearth of them Chapter 17 Among the magistrates Were some radical fellows With turned-up hoods Who had been influenced by the entreaties And the columnies of my opponents Because they all belonged To the party of Fragil Rolamo And these men would have Had me sent to prison and punished Without too close a reckoning But the good Princivala Put a stop to that So they sentenced me to pay Four measures of flower As arms to the nunnery of the Murate I was called in again And he ordered me not to speak a word And their pain of their displeasure And to perform the sentence They had passed Then after giving me another sharp rebuke They sent us to the cancillor I muttering all the while It was a slap and not a blow With which we left the aid Bursting with laughter The cancillor bound us Over upon bail on both sides But only I was punished By having to pay the four measures of meal Albeit just then I felt as though I had been massacred I sent for one of my cousins Code maestro Annibale The surgeon, father of Messer Librodoro Librodori Desiring that he should go Bail for me He refused to come Which made me so angry That fuming with fury and swelling like an asp I took a desperate resolve At this point one may observe How the stars do not so much sway As force our conduct When I reflected on the great oblations Which this Annibale owed my family My rage grew to such a pitch That turning wholly to evil And being also by nature somewhat Halleric I waited till the magistrates had gone To dinner And when I was alone And observed that none of their officers Were watching me In the fire of my anger I left the palace Ran to my shop Seized a dagger And rushed to the house of my enemies Who were at home and shopped together I found them at table And Gerardo Who had been the cause of the quarrel Flung himself upon me I stabbed him in the breast Piercing doublet and jerking through and through To the shirt Without however grazing his flesh Or doing him the least harm in the world When I felt my hand go in And heard the closest tear I thought that I had killed him And seeing him full terror struck to earth I cried Traitors, this day is the day On which I mean to murder you all Father, mother and sisters Thinking the last day had come Threw themselves upon their knees Screaming out for mercy With all their might But I perceived that they offered no resistance And that he was stretched for death Upon the ground Thought it too base a thing To touch them I ran storming down the staircase And when I reached the street I found all the rest of the household More than twelve persons One of them had seized an iron shovel Another a sick iron pipe One had an anvil Some of them hammered and some cajoles When I got among them Raging like a mad bull I flung four or five to the earth And fell down with them myself Continually aiming my dagger Now at one and now at another Those who remained upright Blight both hands with all their force Giving it me with hammers, cajoles and anvil But inasmuch as God Does some time mercifully intervene She so ordered That neither they nor I Did any harm to one another I only lost my cap On which my adversary seized Though they had run away From it before and struck at it With all their weapons Afterwards they searched Among their dead and wounded And saw that not a single man Was injured End of chapters twelve through seventeen Chapters eighteen through twenty-two Of the autobiography of Benvenuto Scilini, volume one This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings Are in the public domain But in the public domain For more information Or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Andrew Coleman The autobiography Of Benvenuto Scilini, volume one Translated by John Addington Simmonds Chapters eighteen through twenty-two Eighteen I went off in the direction Of Santa Maria Novella And stumbling up against Friar Lessio Strozzi Whom by the way I did not know I entreated this good Friar For the love of God to save my life Since I had committed a great fault He told me to have no fear For had I done every sin in the world I was yet in perfect Safety in his little cell After about an hour The Eight In an extraordinary meeting Caused one of the most dreadful bands Which ever were heard of And publicly published against me Announcing heavy penalties Against who should harbour me Or know where I was Without regard to place Or to the quality of my protector My poor, afflicted father Went to the Eight Through himself upon his knees And prayed for mercy For his unfortunate young son There upon one of those radical fellows Shaking the crest of his twisted hood Stood up and addressed my father And said to me, Get up from there And be gone at once For tomorrow we shall send your son Into the country with their lances My poor father had still the spirit to answer What God shall have ordained That will you do And not a jot or tit or more Were to the same man replied That for certain God had ordained As he had spoken My father said The thought consoles me And quitting their presence He came to visit me Together with a young man of my own age Called Piero di Giovanni Landi We loved one another As though we had been brothers Under his mantle The lad carried a first-rate sword And a splendid coat of mail And when they found me My brave father told me what had happened And what the magistrate said to him Then he kissed me on the forehead And both eyes And gave me his hearty blessing Saying may the power of goodness Of God be your protection And reaching me the sword and armour He helped me with his own hands To put them on Afterwards he added, O my good son With these arms in thy hand Thou shalt either live or die Piero Landi, who was present Kept shedding tears And when he had given me ten golden crowns I bait him remove a few hairs From my chin, which were the first Down of my manhood Prate Alessio disguised me like a friar And gave me a lay brother To go with me Quitting the convent and issuing From the city by the gate of Prato I went along the walls as far as The Piazza di Sangallo Then I ascended the slope of Montwey And in one of the first houses There I found a man called Il Grasuccio Own brother to Mesa Benedetto Damonte Vaci I flung off my monk's clothes And became once more a man Then we mounted two horses Which were waiting there for us And went by night to Siena Grasuccio returned to Florence Sought out my father And gave him the news of my safe escape In the excess of his joy It seemed a thousand years to my father Till he should meet the member Of the eight who had insulted him And when he came across the man He said, See you, Antonio, that it was God Who knew what had to happen to my son And not yourself To which the fellow answered Only let him get another time Into our clutches At my father I shall spend my time in thanking God That he has rescued him from that fate 19 At Siena I waited for the mail to roam Which I afterwards joined And when we passed the Paglia We met a courier carrying news Of the new pope, Clement VII Upon my arrival in Rome I went to work in the shop Of the master Goldsmith Santy He was dead, but a son of his Carried on the business He did not work himself But entrusted all his commissions To a young man called Lucagnolo From Yesi, a country fellow Who, while yet a child Had come into Santy's service Portioned and was a more skillful craftsman Than anyone whom I had met With up to that time Remarkable for facility And excellent in design He executed large plate only That is to say, vases Of the utmost beauty Basons and such pieces Having put myself to work there I began to make some cantalabra For the Bishop of Salamanca, a Spaniard There were richly chased So far as that sort of work admits A pupil of Raffaello Diabino Called Gianfrancisco And commonly known as Il Fatore Was a painter of great ability And being on terms of friendship With the bishop, he introduced me To his favour, so that I obtained Many commissions from their prelet And earned considerable sums of money During that time I went to draw Sometimes in Michelangelo's chapel And sometimes in the house Of Agostino Cicchi of Siena Which contained many incomparable paintings By the hand of that great master Raffaello This I did on feast days Because the house was then inhabited By Messages Mondo, Agostino's brother They plume themselves exceedingly When they saw young men of my sort Coming to study in their palaces Gismondo's wife, noticing my Frequent presence in that house She was a lady as courteous as could be And of surpassing beauty Came up to me one day Looked at my drawings, and asked me If I was a sculptor or a painter Tome I said I was a goldsmith She remarked that I drew too well For a goldsmith, and having made One of her waiting-maids bring A lily of the finest diamonds Setting gold, she showed it to me And bade me value it I valued it at eight hundred crowns Then she said that I had very nearly Hit the mark, and asked me Whether I felt capable of setting The stones really well I said that I should much like to do so And began before her eyes To make a little sketch for it Working all the better because of the Pleasure I took in conversing with So lovely and agreeable a gentlewoman When the sketch was finished Another Roman lady of great beauty Joined us. She had been above And now descending to the ground floor Asked Madonna Potsia what she was Doing there. She answered with a Smile, I am amusing myself By watching this worthy young man At his drawing. He is as good As he is handsome. I had by this time Acquired a trifle of assurance Mixed, however, with some honest Bashfulness. So I blushed And said, such as I am, lady I shall ever be most ready To serve you. The gentlewoman Also slightly blushing said You know well that I want you To serve me, and reaching me The lily, taught me to take it Away, and gave me besides Twenty gold coins, and Gave me besides twenty golden crowns Which she had in her back, and added Set me the jewel after the fashion You have sketched, and keep for me The old gold in which it is now Set. On this the Roman lady Observed, if I were in that young Man's body I should go off Without asking leave. Madonna Potsia replied That virtues rarely are at home With vices, and that if I did Such a thing I should strongly Belie my good looks of an honest Man. Then turning round she Took the Roman lady's hand, and With a pleasant smile said, Farewell, Benvenuto. I stayed on her short while at The drawing I was making, which Was a copy of the Jove by Raffaello. When I had finished It and left the house, I set Myself to making a little model Of wax, in order to show how The jewel would look when it Was completed. This I talked To Madonna Potsia, whom I Found with the same Roman lady. Both of them were highly satisfied With my work, and treated me So kindly that, being somewhat Emboldened, I promised the jewel Should be twice as good as the Model. Accordingly I set Hand to it, and in twelve Days I finished it in the form Of a fleur-de-lis. As I have said Above, ornamenting it with Little masks, children, and Animals, exquisitely enameled Whereby the diamonds which form Carefully, were more than doubled In effect. Twenty. While I was working at this Piece, Luc Agnello, of whose Ability I have before spoken, Showed considerable discontent, Telling me over and over again That I might acquire far more profit And honour by helping him to Execute large plate, as I had Done at first. I made him Answer that, whenever I chose I should always be capable of Working at great silver pieces, Like that on which I was now engaged Were not commissioned every day And beside their bringing no less honour Than large silver plate, there was Also more profit to be made by them. He laughed me in the face, and said Wait and see, Benvenuto! For by the time that you have Finished that work of yours, I will Make haste to have finished this vase Which I took in hand when you did the Jewel, and then experience shall teach You what profit I shall get from My vase, and what you will get I answered that I was very glad indeed To enter into such a competition With so good a craftsman as he was, Because the end would show Which of us was mistaken. Accordingly, both the one And the other of us, with a scornful smile Upon our lips, bent our heads In grim earnest to the work Which both were now desirous Of accomplishing, so that after About ten days each had finished His undertaking with great delicacy And artistic skill. Lucacnelos was a huge silver piece Used at the table of Pope Clement Into which he flung away bits of bone And the rind of diverse fruits while Eating, an object of ostentation Rather than necessity. The vase was adorned with two fine Handles, together with many Masks, both small and great, And masses of lovely foliage In as exquisite a style of elegance Says could be imagined, on seeing Which I said it was the most beautiful Vase that ever I set eyes on. Thinking he had convinced me, Lucacnelos replied, Your work seems to me no less beautiful, But we shall soon perceive the difference Between the two. So he took his vase and carried it To the Pope, who was very well Pleased with it, and ordered at once That he should be paid at the ordinary Rate of such large plate. Meanwhile, I carried mine to Madonna Potsia, who was very well Pleased with it, and ordered at once I carried mine to Madonna Potsia, Who looked at it with astonishment And told me I had far surpassed My promise. Then she bade me Ask for my reward whatever I liked, For it seemed to her my dessert Was so great, that if I craved A castle, she could hardly recompense Me. But since that was Not in her hands to bestow, She had it laughing that I must Beg what lay within her power. I answered that the greatest reward I could desire for my labour To have satisfied her ladyship. Then smiling in my turn And bowing to her, I took my leave, Saying I wanted no reward but That. She turned to the Roman lady, and said, You see that the qualities We discerned in him are accompanied By virtues, and not vices. They both expressed their admiration, And then Madonna Potsia continued, Friend Benvenuto, have you Never heard it said that when The poor give to the rich, The devil laughs? I replied, quite true, And yet in the midst of all his troubles I should like this time to see him laugh. And as I took my leave She said that this time she had no will To bestow on him that favour. When I came back to the shop Luc Agnello had the money For his vase in a paper packet, And on my arrival he cried out Come and compare the price of your Jewel with the price of my plate. I said that he must leave things As they were till the next day, Because I hoped that even as my work In its kind was not less excellent Than his, so I should be able To show him quite an equal price for it. Twenty-one. On the day following Madonna Potsia sent a major Dommer of hers to my shop, Who called me out and putting into my hands A paper packet full of money from his lady, Told me that she did not choose The devil should have his whole laugh out, By which he hinted that the money He sent me was not the entire payment Merited by my industry, And other messages were added Worthy of so courteous a lady. Luc Agnello, who was burning To compare his packet with mine, Burst into the shop, Then in the presence of twelve journeymen And some neighbours, eager to behold The result of this competition, He seized his packet scornfully Exclaiming, ooh, ooh, three or four Times when he poured his money On the counter with a great noise. I, for my part, stunned and stifled By his cries, and by the looks And smiles of the bystanders, First peeped into my packet. Then, after seeing that it contained Nothing but gold, I retired to one end of the counter, And, keeping my eyes lowered And making no noise at all, I lifted it with both hands Suddenly above my head, And emptied it like a mill-hole And I looked at it, and I looked at it I looked at it, and I looked at it And emptied it like a mill-hopper. My coin was twice as much as his, Which caused the onlookers Who had fixed their eyes on me With some derision To turn round suddenly to him And say, Luc Agnello, Benvenuto's pieces Being all of gold and twice as many As yours, make a far finer effect. I thought for a certain That what with jealousy And what with shame Luc Agnello would have fallen Dead upon the spot, And though he took the third part of my gain Since I was a journeyman, For such is the custom of the trade Two-thirds fall to the workman, And one-third to the masters of the shop. Yet inconsiderate envy Had more power in him than avarice. It ought indeed to have worked Quite the other way, He being a peasant's son from Yeezy. He cursed his art and those who Taughted him, verring that Thenceforth he would never work But give his whole attention to those Brothel Gugours since they were So well paid. Equally enraged on my side, I answered That every bird sank its own note, That he talked after the fashion Of the hovels he came from, But that I dared swear that I should Succeed with ease in making his Lovely lumber, while he would Never be successful in my Brothel Gugours. Thus I flung off in a passion Telling him that I would soon Take truth. The bystanders openly Declared against him, holding him For a lout, as indeed he was, And me from man, as I had Proved myself. Twenty-two. Next day I went to thank Madonna Potsia, and told her that her Ladieship had done the opposite Of what she said she would, for That while I wanted to make the devil laugh She had made him once more deny God. We both laughed pleasantly At this, and she gave me other Commissions for fine and substantial Work. Meanwhile I contrived, by means of a Pupilov-Rafiello Diabino, to get An order from the Bishop of Salamanca For one of those great water vessels Called Aquaresia, which are used For ornaments to place on Side-bots. He wanted a pair made Of equal size, and one of them He entrusted to Luc Agnalo, The other to me. Chauvin Francesco, the painter I Have mentioned, gave us the design. Originally I set hand with marvellous Goodwill to this piece of plate, and Was accommodated with a part of his Workshop, by a Milanese, named Maestro Giavone Piero di Letacca. Having made my preparations I calculated how much money I should need for certain affairs of My own, and sent all the rest To assist my poor father. It so happened, that just When this was being paid to him In Florence, he stumbled upon one Of those radicals who were in the And I got into that little trouble there. It was the very man who had Abused him so rudely, and who Swore that I should certainly be sent Into the country with the lances. Now this fellow had some sons Of very bad morals, and repute. Wherefore my father said to him Miss fortunes can happen to anybody Especially to men of colouric humour When they were in the right, Even as it happened to my son.  Would God, for your well-being, That your sons may act Neither worse nor better toward you Than mine do to me? God rendered me able to bring them Up as I have done, and where My own power could not reach It was he who rescued them Against your expectation Out of your violent hands. On leaving the man, he wrote Me all this story begging me For God's sake to practice music At times, in order that I might Use the fine accomplishment which He had taught me with such trouble The letters so overflowed With expressions of the tenderest Fatherly affection, that I was Moved to tears of filial piety Resolving before he died To gratify him amply With regard to music. Thus God grants us those lawful Blessings which we ask in prayer Nothing doubting. End of chapters 18 through 22 chapters 23 through 26 of the autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini Volume 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Andrew Coleman The autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini Volume 1 translated by John Simon's chapters 23 through 26 23 While I was pushing forward Salamanca's vase I had only one little boy as help whom I had taken at the entreaty Of friends, and half against my own Will to be my workman He was about 14 years of age Bore the name of Paulino And was son to a Roman Burgess Who lived upon the income of his property Paulino was the best manate The most honest And the most beautiful boy I ever saw in my whole life His modest ways and actions Together with his superlative beauty And his devotion to myself Bred in me as great an affection for him As a man's breast can hold This passionate love Led me often times To delight the lad with music For I observed that his marvellous features Which by complexion Wore a tone of modest melancholy Brightened up, and when I took my Cornet broke into a smile So lovely and so sweet That I do not marvel at the silly stories Which the Greeks have written About the deities of heaven Indeed, if my boy had lived In those times he would probably Have turned their heads still more He had a sister Named Faustina More beautiful I verily believe Than that Faustina about whom The old books gossip so Sometimes he took me to their vineyard And so far as I could judge It struck me that Paulino's good father Would have welcomed me as a son-in-law This affair led me to play more Than I was used to do It happened at that time That Juan Janja Cormor of Shazena A musician in the Pope's band And a very excellent performer Sent word through Lorenzo The trumpeter of Luca Who is now in our Duke's service To inquire whether I was inclined To help them at the Pope's ferrigosto Playing soprano with my cornet In some motets of great beauty Selected by them for that occasion Although I had the greatest desire To finish the vase I had begun Yet, since music has a wondrous charm Of its own, and also because I wish to please my old father I consented to join them During eight days before the festival We practiced two hours a day together Then on the 1st of August We went to the Belvedere And while Pope Clement was at table We played those carefully studied motets So well that his holiness protested He had never heard music More sweetly executed Or with better harmony of parts He sent for Janja Cormor And asked him where and how He had procured so excellent a cornet For soprano, and inquired particularly Who I was Janja Cormor told him my name in full Whereupon the Pope said So then, he is a son of Maestro Giovanni On being assured I was The Pope expressed his wish to have me In his service with the other bandsmen Janja Cormor replied Most blessed father I cannot pretend for certain that you will get him For his profession To which he devotes himself assiduously Is that of a goldsmith And he works in it miraculously well And earns by it far more than he could do By playing To this the Pope added I am the better inclined to him now That I find him possessor of a talent More than I expected See that he obtains the same salary As the rest of you And tell him from me to join my service And that I will find work enough By the day for him to do in his other trait Then stretching out his hand He gave him a hundred golden crowns Of the camera in a handkerchief And said, divide these So that he may take his share When Janja Cormor left the Pope He came to us and related in detail All that the Pope had said And after dividing the money between the eight of us And giving me my share He said to me, now I am going to have you Inscribed among our company I replied, let the day pass Tomorrow I will give my answer When I left them I went meditating whether I ought to Accept the invitation In as much as I could not but suffer If I abandoned the noble studies of my art The following night My father appeared to me in a dream And begged me with tears of Tendrous affection for God's love And his to enter upon this engagement Me thought I answered that nothing Would induce me to do so In an instant he assumed so horrible An aspect as to frighten me out of my wits And cried, if you do not You will have a father's curse But if you do may you be ever Blessed by me When I woke I ran for very fright To have myself inscribed Then I wrote to my old father Telling him the news Which so affected him with extreme joy That a sudden fit of illness took him And when I brought him to death's door In his answer to my letter He told me that he too had dreamed Nearly the same as I had 24 Knowing now that I had gratified My father's honest wish I began to think that everything Would prosper with me to a glorious And honourable end. Accordingly I set myself with Indefatigable industry to the Completion of the vows I had begun For Salamanca. That Prelate was a very extraordinary Man, extremely rich, but difficult To please. He sent daily to learn what I Was doing, and when his messenger Did not find me at home he broke Into fury, saying that he would Take the work out of my hands And this came of my slavery To that accursed music. Still I laboured diligently night And day, until when I had Brought my work to a point when It could be exhibited I submitted It to the inspection of the bishop. This so increased his desire to See it finished that I was sorry I had shown it. At the end of three months I had It ready with little animals And foliage and masks as beautiful As one could hope to see. Then I sent it by the hand of my Workman, Paulino, to show that Able artist, Luke Hagnolo, of whom I have spoken above. Paulino, with the grace and beauty Which belonged to him, spoke as Follows. Mesa, Luke Hagnolo, Benvenuto Bits me say that he has sent to Show you his promises and your Lumber. Expecting in return to See from you is Gugours. This message given, Luke Hagnolo took up the vows And carefully examined it. Then he said to Paulino, Fair boy, tell your master that He is a great and able artist And that I beg him to be willing To have me for a friend And not to engage in ought else. The mission of their virtuous And marvellous lad caused me The greatest joy, and then The vase was carried to Salamanca Who ordered it to be valued. Luke Hagnolo took part in the Valuation estimating and freezing Far above my own opinion. Salamanca, lifting up the vase, Cried like a true Spaniard. I swear by God that I will take As long in paying him As he has lagged in making it. When I heard this, I was exceedingly put out And fell to cursing all Spain And everyone who wished well To it. Amongst other beautiful ornaments This vase had a handle Made all of one piece With most delicate mechanism Which, when a spring was touched Stood upright above the mouth Of it. While the prelate was one day Ostentatiously exhibiting my vase To certain Spanish gentlemen of his suite It chanced that one of them Upon Monsignor's quitting the room Began roughly to work the handle And as the gentle spring which moved it Could not bear his loudish violence It broke in his hand. Aware what mischief he had done He begged the butler who had charged Of the bishop's plate to take it to the master Who had made it for him to mend And promised to pay what price he asked Provided it was set right set once. So the vase came once more into my hands And I promised to put it forthwith in order Which indeed I did. It was brought to me before dinner And at twenty-two o'clock The man who brought it returned All in a sweat For he had run the whole way Monsignor having again asked for it To show to certain other gentlemen. The butler then, without giving me time To utter a word, cried, Quick, quick, bring the vase! I, who wanted to act at leisure And not to give up to him, Said that I did not mean to be so quick. The serving man got into such a rage That he made as though he would put One hand to his sword, while with the other He threatened to break the shop open. To this I put a stop at once With my own weapon, using therewith Spirited language and saying I am not going to give it to you.  When the fellow saw He could not obtain it by swaggering He felt a-praying me, as one preys To the cross, declaring that If I would only give it up He would take care I should be paid. These words did not make me swerve For my purpose, but I kept on Saying the same thing. At last, despairing of success He swore to come with Spaniards enough To cut me in pieces. Then he took to his heels While I, who inclined to believe Partly in their murderous attack Resolved that I would defend myself With courage. So I got an admirable little gun ready Which I used for shooting game And muttered to myself He who robs me of my property And labour may take my life too And welcome. While I was carrying on this debate With my own mind, a crowd of Spaniards Arrived, led by the Major Domo Who with the headstrong rashness Of his race beat them go in And take the vase and give me a good beating. Hearing these words, I shoved Them the muzzle of my gun, and prepared To fire, and cried in a loud voice Renegade Jews, traitors! Is it thus that one breaks Into houses and shops in our city Of Rome, come as many of you Thieves as like, an inch nearer To this wicket, and I'll blow The greens out with my gun.  He collapsed spurs to the Genity, was riding, and took flight Headlong. The commotion we were Making stirred up all the neighbours Who came crowding ground together With some Roman gentleman who chanced To pass, and cried, do but kill The renegades, and we will stand Onward have the effect of frighting The Spaniards in good earnest. They withdrew, and were compelled By the circumstances to relate The whole affair to Monsignor. Being a man of inordinate haughtiness He rated the members of his household Both because they had engaged In such an act of violence, and also Because, having begun, they had Not gone through with it. At this juncture, the painter Who had been concerned in the whole Matter, came in, and the Bishop Told me that if I did not bring the vase At once, he would make mincemeat Of me, but if I brought it He would pay its price down. These threats were so far from Terrifying me, that I sent him word I was going immediately to lay My case before the Pope. In the meantime, his anger And my fear subsided. Whereupon, being Guaranteed by some Roman Nobleman of high degree, that the Prelate would not harm me, and Since that I should be paid, I Armed myself with a large pond-yard At my good coat of mail, and Betook myself to his palace Where he had drawn up all his household. I entered, and Paulino followed With the silver vase. It was just like passing through The zodiac, neither more nor less. For one of them had the face Of the lion, another of the Scorpion, a third of the crab. However, we passed Onward to the presence of the Graskally Priest, who spouted Out a torrent of such language as Only priests and Spaniards have At their command. In return I never raised my eyes to look At him, nor answered word for Word. That seemed to augment The fury of his anger, and Causing paper to be put before Me, he commanded me to write An acknowledgement to the effect That I had been amply satisfied And paid him full. Then I raised my head, and said I should be very glad to do so When I had received the money. The bishop's rage continued To rise. Threats and recriminations Were flung about, but at last The money was paid, and I Wrote the receipt. Then I departed, glad at heart And in high spirits. Twenty-five. When Pope Clement heard the story He had seen the vase before, but It was not shown him as my work. He expressed much pleasure and spoke Warmly in my praise, publicly Saying that he felt very favourably Toward me. This caused Monsignor Salamanca to repent that he Had hectared over me. And in Ordered to make up our quarrel, he sent The same painter to inform me that he meant To give me large commissions. I replied that I was willing to undertake Them, but that I should require to be Paid in advance. This speech, too, came to Pope Clement's Years, and made him laugh heartily. Cardinal Giebel was in The presence, and the Pope narrated to him The whole history of my dispute with the bishop. Then he turned to one of His people, and ordered him to go On supplying me with work for the palace. Cardinal Giebel sent For me, and after some time Spent in agreeable conversation Gave me the order for a large vase, Bigger than Salamanca's. I likewise obtained commissions From Cardinal Conaro, and many others Of the Holy College, especially Ridolfi and Salviati. They all kept me well employed, So that I earned plenty of money. Madonna Ponsia now Advised me to open a shop on my own. This I did, and I never Stopped working for that excellent And gentle lady, who paid me Exceedingly well, and by Whose means perhaps it was That I came to make a figure in the world. I contracted close friendship With Sr. Gabriello Cesarino, At that I'm gone fallownier Of Rome, and executed many pieces For him. One among the rest Is worthy of mention. It was a large golden medal To wear in the hat. I engraved Upon it leader with her swan, And being very well pleased with Workmanship, he said he should Like to have it valued, in order That I might be properly paid. Now, since the medal was Executed with consummate's skill, The valuers of the trade set a Far higher price on it than He had thought of. I therefore Had the medal, and got nothing For my pains. The same sort Of adventures happened in this case As in that of Salamanca's vase. But I shall pass such matters Briefly by, lest they hinder me From telling things of greater importance. Twenty-six. Since I am writing my life, I must from time to time diverge From my profession, in order To describe with brevity, if not In detail, some incidents which Have no bearing on my career as A man. On the morning of St. John's Day, I happened to be dining with Several men of our nation, painters, Sculptors, goldsmiths, amongst The most notable of whom was Rosso And Jean Francesco, the pupil of Raffiello. I had invited them Without restraint or ceremony to the Place of our meeting, and they were All laughing and joking as is natural When a crowd of men come together to Make merry on so great a festival. It chanced that a light-brained Swaggering young fellow passed by. There was a soldier of Rienzo Daceri, who, When he heard the noise that we were Making, gave vent to a string of Approprious sarcasms upon the folk Of Florence. I, who was the host of Those great artists and men of Worth, taking the insult to myself, Slipped out quietly without being Observed, and went up to him.  When I met him, I asked if he was the rash fellow Who was speaking evil of the Florentines. He answered at once, I am that man. On this I raised My hand, struck him in the face, and Said, and I am this man. Then we each of us drew our swords With spirit, but the fray had Hardly begun, when a crowd of Persons intervened who rather Took my part than not, hearing And seeing that I was in the Right. On the following day A challenge to fight with him Was brought me, which I Accepted very gladly, saying That I expected to complete this Job far quicker than those of The other art I practised. So I went at once to confer with A fine old man called Bevilacqua, Who was reputed to have been the First sword of Italy, because He had fought more than twenty Serious duels, and had always Come off with honour. This Excellent man was a great friend Of mine. He knew me as an artist, And had also been concerned as Ugly quarrels between me and others.  So he consented to be my second, And we repaired with sword in Hand to the appointed place, But no blood was shed, for my Ownant made the matter up, and I Came with much credit out of the Affair. I will not add further Particulars, for though they would Be very interesting in their own Way, I wish to keep both space and Words for my art, which has been My chief inducement to write as I Am doing, and about which I Shall have only too much to say. The spirit of honourable rivalry Impelled me to attempt some other Masterpiece, which should equal, Or even surpass, the productions Of the noble craftsman Luc Agnolo, whom I have mentioned. Still I did Not on this account neglect my Own fine art of jewellery, and so Both the one and the other wrought Me much profit and more credit, and In both of them I continued to produce Things of marked originality. There was, at that time in Rome, A very able artist of Perugia, Named Laotisio, who worked Only in one department, where He was soul and unrivaled Throughout the world. You must Know that at Rome every cardinal Has a seal upon which His title is engraved, and These seals are made just as Large as a child's hand of about Twelve years of age, and, as I Have already said, the cardinal's Title is engraved upon the seal Together with the great many Ornamental figures. A well-made article of the kind Fetches a hundred, or more than A hundred crowns. This Excellent workman, like Luc Agnolo Roused in me some honest rivalry, Although the art he practised Is far remote from the other Branches of Goldsmithry. And consequently, Laotisio was Not skilled in making anything but Seals. I gave my mind to Acquiring his craft also, although I found it very difficult, and Unrepelled by the trouble Which he'd gave me. I went On zealously upon the path of Profit and improvement. There was in Rome another Most excellent craftsman of ability, Who was a Milanese named Mesa Caradosso. He dealt in nothing but Little chiseled medals, made Of plates of metal and such like Things.  There were also other masters Who worked at medals carved in steel, Which may be called the models and True guides for those who aim at striking Coins in the most perfect style. All these diverse arts I set myself with unflagging Industry to learn. I must not omit the exquisite Art of enamelling, in which I have never known any one excels Safer Florentine, our countryman Called Amarigo. I did not know Him, but was well acquainted With his incomparable masterpieces. Nothing in any part of the world Or by craftsmen that I have seen Approach the divine beauty Of their workmanship. To this branch, too, I devoted Myself with all my strength, although It is extremely difficult, chiefly Because of the fire, which, after Long time and trouble spent in Other processes, has to be applied At last, and not unfrequently Brings the whole to ruin. In spite of its great difficulties It gave me so much pleasure That I looked upon them as recreation. And this came from the special gift Which the God of Nature bestowed on me. That is to say, a temperament So happy, and of such excellent Parts that I was freely able To accomplish whatever it pleased Me to take in hand. The various departments of art Which I have described are very Different one from the other, so That a man who excels in one of Them, if he undertakes the others Hardly ever achieves the same Success, whereas I strove With all my power to become Equally versed in all of them, And in the proper place I shall Demonstrate that I attained my Object. End of chapters 23 Through 26


Water scarcity is a global issue, especially in regions with limited freshwater sources, which has led to the need for sustainable water management practices. Advanced techniques such as membrane filtration using nanomaterials like cellulose, titan, and graphene can help provide more clean water. The principal component analysis, PCA, method was used to compare the performance of these materials in removing dyes from contaminated water. Kytosan-based aerogels had the lowest regeneration efficiencies, while those made from nanoscellulose, nanoscellulose 2, nanoscellulose 5, nanoscellulose 6, and nanoscellulose 11 had higher removal rates. These results suggest that certain conditions should be taken into consideration when choosing the right material for membrane filtration applications. This article was authored by Collid Eunis, Yahya Karboutli, May's Sarah Anter, and others.