s now survive. The plate and armour that bear his name, are
only in some rare instances genuine; and the bronze "Perseus" in the
Loggia de' Lanzi at Florence remains almost alone to show how high he
ranked among the later Tuscan sculptors. If, therefore, Cellini had been
judged merely by the authentic productions of his art, he would not have
acquired a celebrity unique among his fellow-workers of the sixteenth
century. That fame he owes to the circumstance that he left behind him at
his death a full and graphic narrative of his stormy life. The vivid style
of this autobiography dictated by Cellini while still engaged in the
labour of his craft, its animated picture of a powerful character, the
variety of its incidents, and the amount of information it contains, place
it high both as a life-romance and also as a record of contemporary
history. After studying the laboured periods of Varchi, we turn to these
memoirs, and view the same events from the standpoint of an artisan
conveying his impressions with plebeian raciness of phrase. The sack of
Rome, the plague and siege of Florence, the humiliation of Clement VII.,
the pomp of Charles V. at Rome, the behaviour of the Florentine exiles at
Ferrara, the intimacy between Alessandro de' Medici and his murderer,
Lorenzino, the policy of Paul III., and the method pursued by Cosimo at
Florence, are briefly but significantly touched upon--no longer by the
historian seeking causes and setting forth the sequence of events, but by
a shrewd observer interested in depicting his own part in the great game
of life. Cellini haunted the private rooms of popes and princes; he knew
the chief actors of his day, just as the valet knows the hero; and the
picturesque glimpses into their life we gain from him, add the charm of
colour and reality to history.

At the same time this book presents an admirable picture of an artist's
life at Rome, Paris, and Florence. Cellini was essentially an Italian of
the Cinque-cento. His passions were the passions of his countrymen; his
vices were the vices of his time; his eccentricity and energy and vital
force were what the age idealised as _virtu_. Combining rare artistic
gifts with a most violent temper and a most obstinate will, he paints
himself at one time as a conscientious craftsman, at another as a
desperate bravo. He obeys his instincts and indulges his appetites with
the irreflective simplicity of an animal. In the pursuit of vengeance and
the comm