by Jule Selbo

At this moment, I’m sitting in the heart of Florence, Italy –  a five minute walk from the Duomo (the Basilica Santa Maria del Fiore), a one minute walk from the Cathedral San Lorenzo (filled with dead Medicis), three minutes to the Central Market (filled with long scarves (the saying is: wrap a scarf around your neck, you will never be cold) and clothes (cotton and linen shirts and skirts) and leather, leather, leather – gloves, purses, jackets, wallets, key rings, notebook covers, hats, mementoes.  If it’s not the smell of tomato sauce, pizza, lasagna, wild boar, cheese, wine, garlic, basil, oregano, steak, amaro, negronis, coffee (espresso), salamis, all-day cooked pork, cornetos, cream puffs and gelato – the scent that wafts under the nostrils in Florence is probably leather.

My first book FIND ME IN FLORENCE (2019, a mystery romance) was written while I was teaching here – which I did for months at a time for over four years.  When I get the chance to come back and my plane lands on the tarmac in Florence, I get this strange feeling that I am “home”.

There are mysteries and crimes galore in the ancient history of Italy (it wasn’t unified until 1861, so the crimes before that would have to be attributed to the sixteen or so “states” that were basically their own countries with their own laws and governors and political structures).

There is one criminal in the 16^th century, who lived mostly in the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, who has always fascinated me. It is hot-tempered, violent bad-boy and amazingly talented silver/goldsmith and sculptor Benvenuto Cellini.

Was he really guilty of all the crimes he was charged with? Assault, murder (more than one, more than three, more than???), embezzlement of items from the Vatican, lots of sword-fighting where he inflicted grave injuries, sex crimes, lying, kidnapping, using diamond dust to poison (oops, no, someone did that to him (but it didn’t work because the assailant had been tricked into buying a fake diamond and when he ground it to dust, it was not lethal and Cellini did not perish. He lived to get his revenge)).

I walk by Cellini’s bust almost every day on the Ponte Vecchio (the most famous bridge in Florence) and marvel how he’s beloved despite his aberrant life – and marvel at how his amazing artistic talent always got him out of jails/prisons/serious scrapes. He was once sentenced to prison at Castel d’Angelo in Rome (formerly Emperor Hadrian’s tomb, built around 138 AD, it became a fortress, then was a prison, the a vacation home for Popes). Cellini earned his spot here because of his stealing jewels from the Vatican (that big place that was in the Papal State).

Hadrian’s Tomb – model (originally the tomb was covered with white marble) and what it looked like around 16th century (I think…)

Originally, Cellini was put in a dank, well-guarded cell, but after an escape attempt, he was put into solitary confinement. He was lowered by rope through a small hole in the second or third story prison floor – lowered  thirty-forty feet into a cold, narrow thick-stone cell.

The entry the prisoner was dropped through — descending through the shaft and landing on the dirt floor of the stone cell.

The entry hole was covered, the prisoner was kept in complete darkness. The dimensions of the cell were such that he could not sit – or lay down. He had to remain standing – the only movement allowed was a very slight bend at the waist. Rotting food was tossed down from above every other day, he was left absolutely alone, standing in blackness with his feces and urine. Most prisoners who had been put into this kind of cell lasted a month – most perished from losing their minds. However, Cellini withstood it for almost a full year; he was finally released because one of the Popes wanted a new dinner-set of silver (forks, knifes and spoons) – and it had to be of the highest artistic quality, of course. So Cellini, the best and most famous silversmith in Italy at the time, was lifted out of his cell. Cellini fulfilled the dinner-set commission and then was banished to France.

Just some of the talent that kept Cellini’s head on his shoulders during his criminal years:

                              Some are delicate, some are bigger than life-size

Cellini was vain, loud and an extrovert. If other men looked at one of his mistresses or young male lovers, their lives were usually threatened (and sometimes they were killed by Cellini). His ego was very very healthy and his life was chaotic.

His autobiography (written around 1560) is a study in how a person can rewrite his own history. He minimized or revised his criminal behaviors and made himself a star of the 16^th century.

Still, I wonder why this mad, criminal, amazingly talented guy gets a prime spot on the Ponte Vecchio…

Notes from Italy, March 2024