Benvenuto Cellini arrived in France in 1537, but, offended by the cold reception of Il Rosso,[13] he resolved, notwithstanding the _gracious welcome_ of Francis I. to return to Italy almost immediately, where he was imprisoned in the castle of St. Angelo. By the generous intervention of Francis, he was at length released, and returned to France, where he was most royally provided for; nevertheless, his pride, and jealousy of Primatice, kept him in constant agitation, and at length wearied out the king, whose inclination was always obliged to yield to his caprice; and at last he abandoned the greatest advantages which ever were offered to an artist, and quitted France for ever--a step he never ceased to regret. On one occasion, he went to St. Germains with a vase of silver-gilt, destined for the Duchesse d’Etampes, and was so irritated at the loss of time which he was obliged to submit to before he could be admitted to her presence, that he hurried away, and in the height of his indignation offered the vase to the Cardinal de Lorraine as a present. Another instance of his furious temper is sufficiently remarkable. He tells, in his confessions, that one of his models, a beautiful French girl, named Catherine, who sat to him for thirty sous a day, having offended him, “Giving way entirely to my rage, I seized her by the hair, and dragged her about the room, _kicking and beating her till I was quite fatigued_. She swore she never would come near me again; but the next morning at day-break, she came, threw herself on my neck, covered me with kisses, and asked if _I was still angry with her_.” [13] A Painter of fresques. ❦ Sadi, poëte Persan, dit, “que la sagesse est de jouir--la bonté de faire jouir.” ❦ _Mind and Body._ Says Mind to Body t’other day, As on my chin I plied my razor, “Pray tell me, does that glass pourtray Your real phiz, or cheat the gazer? “That youthful face, which bloom’d so sleek, As Hebe’s, Ganymede’s, Apollo’s, Has lost its roses, and your cheek Is falling into fearful hollows. “The crow’s fell foot has set its sign Beside that eye, which dimly twinkles; And look! what means that ugly line? Gadzooks, my friend, you’re getting wrinkles! “That form which ladies once could praise Would now inspire them with a panic; Get Byron’s belt, or Worcester’s stays, Or else you’ll soon be aldermanic. “At sight of that dismantled top, My very heart, I must confess, aches; Once famous as a Benter’s crop, You now are balder than Lord Essex. “Since Waites’ decease, your teeth decline, Finding no beautifier near them; Time’s tooth has mumbled two of thine, Well may they call him _Edax rerum_. “Behold, your cheeks are quite bereft Of their two laughter loving dimples; And pretty substitutes they’ve left, (Between ourselves) a brace of pimples!