of Baccio Bandinelli, and of Giorgio Vasari were crude verities. The manners of the period and his method of narration justify this conclusion.
Taking a wider sweep and survey of this subject, Baretti sums up the impression left upon his mind by Cellini's self-portraiture thus: "He has painted himself as brave as a French grenadier, as vindictive as a viper, superstitious to the last degree, full of eccentricity and caprice; a pleasant companion among friends, but not susceptible of affectionate attachments; rather loose in sexual relations, a bit of a traitor without being aware of it; slightly tainted with spite and envy, a braggart and vain without suspecting himself to be such; a madcap who firmly believed he was wise, circumspect, and prudent. Fully persuaded that he was a hero, he dashed this picture of himself upon the canvas without a thought of composition or reflection, just as his fiery and rapid fancy prompted. We derive from it something of the same pleasure which we feel in contemplating a terrible wild beast who cannot get near enough to hurt us."
XIII
After these general considerations upon the limits within which Cellini's veracity may be trusted, I pass to some particulars that have been always challenged in his statements.
Upon the very first pages of the book we are met with an astounding legend relating to the foundation and the name of Florence. Having shown familiarity with previous speculations on the subject, he re-
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