The consciousness of physical courage and the belief in his own moral superiority sustained Cellini in all his dangers and in all his crimes.  Armed with his sword and dagger, and protected by his coat of mail, he was ready to stand against the world and fight his way towards any object he desired.  When a man opposed his schemes or entered into competition with him as an artist, he swaggered up with hand on hilt and threatened to run him through the body if he did not mind his business.  At the same time he attributes the success of his own violence in quelling and maltreating his opponents to the providence of God.  “I do not write this narrative,” he says, “from a motive of vanity, but merely to return thanks to God, who has extricated me out of so many trials and difficulties; who likewise delivers me from those that daily impend over me.  Upon all occasions I pay my devotions to Him, call upon Him as my defender, and recommend myself to His care.  I always exert my utmost efforts to extricate myself, but when I am quite at a loss, and all my powers fail me, then the force of the Deity displays itself—­that formidable force which, unexpectedly, strikes those who wrong and oppress others, and neglect the great and honourable duty which God has enjoined on them.”  I shall have occasion later on to discuss Cellini’s religious opinions; but here it may be remarked that the feeling of this passage is thoroughly sincere and consistent with the spirit of the times.  The separation between religion and morality was complete in Italy.[358] Men made their own God and worshipped him; and the God of Cellini was one who always helped those who began to help themselves by taking justice into their own hands.

From the date of his second visit to Rome in 1523, Cellini’s life divides itself into three periods, the first spent in the service of Popes Clement VII. and Paul III., the second in Paris at the Court of Francis, and the third at Florence under Cosimo de’ Medici.

On arriving in Rome, his extraordinary abilities soon brought him into notice at the Court.  The Chigi family, the Bishop of Salamanca, and the Pope himself employed him to make various jewels, ornaments, and services of plate.  In consequence of a dream in which his father appeared and warned him not to neglect music, under pain of the paternal malediction, he accepted a post in the Papal band.  The old bugbear of flute-playing followed him until his father’s death, and then we hear no more of it.  The history of this portion of his life is among the most entertaining passages of his biography.  Drawing the Roman ruins, shooting pigeons, scouring the Campagna on a pony like a shaggy bear, fighting duels, prosecuting love-affairs, defending his shop against robbers, skirmishing with Moorish pirates on the shore by Cerveterra, stabbing, falling ill of the plague and the French sickness—­these adventures diversify the account he gives of masterpieces in gold and silver ware.  The literary and artistic