when it was finished, was taken by Duke Alessandro. And it was
a good and auspicious beginning for my labours, for the reason that not
only did he hold it in account as long as he lived, but it has been ever
since in the chamber of Duke Cosimo, and is now in that of the most
illustrious Prince, his son; and although at times I have desired to set
my hand upon it again, in order to improve it in some parts, I have not
been allowed. Duke Alessandro, then, having seen this my first work,
ordained that I should finish the ground-floor room in the Palace of the
Medici which had been left incomplete, as has been related, by Giovanni
da Udine. Whereupon I painted there four stories of the actions of
Caesar; his swimming with the Commentaries in one hand and a sword in the
mouth, his causing the writings of Pompeius to be burned in order not to
see the works of his enemies, his revealing himself to a helmsman while
tossed by fortune on the sea, and, finally, his triumph; but this last
was not completely finished. During which time, although I was but
little more than eighteen years of age, the Duke gave me a salary of six
crowns a month, a place at table for myself and a servant, and rooms to
live in, with many other conveniences. And although I knew that I was
very far from deserving so much, yet I did all that I could with
diligence and lovingness, nor did I shrink from asking from my elders
whatever I did not know myself; wherefore on many occasions I was
assisted with counsel and with work by Tribolo, Bandinelli, and others.
I painted, then, in a picture three braccia high, Duke Alessandro
himself in armour, portrayed from life, with a new invention in a seat
formed of captives bound together, and with other fantasies. And I
remember that besides the portrait, which was a good likeness, in
seeking to make the burnished surface of the armour bright, shining, and
natural, I was not very far from losing my wits, so much did I exert
myself in copying every least thing from the reality. However,
despairing to be able to approach to the truth in the work, I took
Jacopo da Pontormo, whom I revered for his great ability, to see it and
to advise me; and he, having seen the picture and perceived my agony,
said to me lovingly: "My son, as long as this real lustrous armour
stands beside the picture, your armour will always appear to you as
painted, for, although lead-white is the most brilliant pigment that art
employs, the iron is yet m