the art of design, that it was impossible to keep him from his favourite pursuit; and at fifteen years of age, without his father's consent, he placed himself with a jeweller and goldsmith.

His first essays were made as a chaser and worker in gold; and applying diligently to his business, he soon attained considerable skill, and made so much money that he was able to assist his father and relations, who were poor enough to need his help. He tells us that he "did his utmost to learn the exquisite manner of Michael Angelo Buonarotti, and never once lost sight of it ;" and thus describes his first successful performance "At this time I produced a piece of basso-relievo in silver, about as big as the hand of a little child; it served for the clasp of a man's belt, clasps of that size being then in use. Upon it was carved a group of foliage, made in the antique taste, with several figures of youths, and other beautiful grotesques. This piece of work I made in the shop of one of my employers; and upon its coming under the inspection of the Goldsmiths' Company, I acquired the reputation of the most expert young man in the trade."

When he was nineteen years old, Benvenuto went to Rome, where he met with great encouragement. His first production was a fine piece of work in silver, to hold a saltcellar, which he adorned with such exquisite figures, that his master made it his boast that his shop had produced such an admirable piece of

art.

"This was the first money I earned in Rome,"

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he says; "part of it I sent to the relief of my good father, and the remainder I kept to support me while I studied the antiquities of that city." At the end of two years he returned to Florence, where he had every prospect of success in his profession; but his turbulent and irascible temper, which had already involved him in serious difficulty, led him into a quarrel, in which he so severely wounded his adversary, that he was obliged to escape, in the disguise of a friar, to Rome. Here he engaged himself to work at a goldsmith's shop, and was employed by the wife of a wealthy merchant to reset some exceedingly valuable jewellery, for which he received a handsome reward. Afterwards he received a commission from the Bishop of Salamanca to make some chandeliers and silver vases; and before long, chancing to take part in a concert at the Pope's feast, he so much pleased his Holiness, Clement VII., that he took him into his employ in the double capacity of musician and artificer. In the service of this pontiff he executed many of his most beautiful smaller works; and being appointed engraver to the Roman mint, he struck such fine coins and medals as have never been surpassed.

If we should inquire in what way he attained to such perfection in the various branches of his art, we learn, by his own statement, that he with the greatest diligence sought to practise himself first in sealengraving, afterwards in engraving medals on steel, then in the "most elegant art of enamelling,” which he found exceedingly difficult, but took such pleasure

in learning that the greatest difficulties appeared to him delightful. Whatever he undertook he pursued with the utmost ardour; and he adds, with great naïveté, that all this was "through the peculiar indulgence of the Author of Nature, who had gifted him with so happy a genius that he could with perfect ease learn anything he gave himself to."

As we have said, a very profitable branch of Cellini's labour was that of jewellery. "He set jewels, and adorned them with admirable collets and diminutive figures, so exquisitely formed, and some of them so curious and fanciful, that nothing finer or more beautiful could be conceived." One of his most celebrated productions of this description was a button he made for Pope Clement VII., to be worn upon his pontifical habit, into which he fixed a diamond, with the most exquisite art, having around it figures of children represented on plates of gold, and a central figure admirably engraved.

It would be impossible to give even a slight sketch of the numerous and heart-stirring adventures recorded by this extraordinary man in the history of his life. Europe was at that time involved in the wars between Francis I. and Charles V., in which Italy took an active share. When the Constable Bourbon laid siege to Rome, Cellini took up arms and performed, according to his own account, wonderful acts of valour; and afterwards he distinguished himself in the defence of the Castle of St. Angelo.

In 1534 his great patron, Pope Clement VII. died.

The new pope, Paul III., engaged him in his service; but he had the misfortune to incur the enmity of Pier Luigi, the pontiff's natural son, who persecuted him with relentless animosity. He was accused of having, during the pillage of Rome, stolen the pontifical jewels and other treasures; and although he was able fully to exonerate himself from these charges, he was committed to the Castle of St. Angelo, and treated with the utmost severity. His description of the misery he endured is most fearful; and there seems little doubt that his intellect was affected in consequence of the long confinement he underwent in a dark and damp chamber, where for many months he dragged on a wretched existence. Always addicted to the imaginative, and fond of the marvellous, he ascribed his preservation to supernatural intervention, and believed that he saw a vision which announced his deliverance.

At length his liberation was effected, through the interposition of the French monarch, who was very desirous to secure the services of this great genius. Arrived at Fontainebleau, he was received with distinction, and loaded with benefits. The king settled a handsome salary on him, and gave him an order to make several large statues for him in silver.

By the desire of the monarch, he next undertook to ornament the fountains at Fontainebleau, but, failing to pay the necessary court to the Duchess d'Estampes, he incurred her displeasure. His chief offence was, that he had shown the model for one of

his statues to the king, without first presenting it for her approval. In consequence, this regal favourite determined to mar the fortune of the uncourteous artist; nor did she rest till he was driven from the kingdom. On one occasion a curious scene occurred. The beautiful statue of Jupiter, having been completed by Cellini, the king was to inspect it on a certain day, but the duchess prevented his going till night. Through her management she had contrived also that some of the finest bronze statues from the antique should be placed in the gallery where the Jupiter was to be shown. "When I saw these wonders of art," said Benvenuto, "I thought within myself,

this is like passing through the pikes of the enemy. Heaven protect me from danger!" He, however, managed, with consummate skill, to light his statue from above, in such a manner, that it was seen to much greater advantage than it could have been under any other circumstances.

The king at length arrived, accompanied by some of the principal nobles and ladies of his court. "When I saw his majesty enter," says the artist, "I ordered my boy, Ascanio, to push the statue of Jupiter before him; and this motion being made with admirable contrivance, caused it to appear alive; so that the other figures were left somewhat behind, and the eyes of all the beholders were first struck with my performance. The king immediately cried out, 'This is one of the finest productions of art that ever was beheld; I, who take pleasure in such things, and