ide, and had his house filled with
tapestries, silver, and other valuable articles of furniture. But
Fortune, who never, or very seldom, maintains for long in high estate
one who puts his trust too much in her, brought him headlong down in the
strangest manner ever known. For while Francesco di Pellegrino, a
Florentine, who delighted in painting and was very much his friend, was
associating with him in the closest intimacy, Rosso was robbed of some
hundreds of ducats; whereupon the latter, suspecting that no one but the
same Francesco could have done this, had him arrested by the hands of
justice, rigorously examined, and grievously tortured. But he, knowing
himself innocent, and declaring nothing but the truth, was finally
released; and, moved by just anger, he was forced to show his resentment
against Rosso for the shameful charge that he had falsely laid upon him.
Having therefore issued a writ for libel against him, he pressed him so
closely, that Rosso, not being able to clear himself or make any
defence, felt himself to be in a sorry plight, perceiving that he had
not only accused his friend falsely, but had also stained his own
honour; and to eat his words, or to adopt any other shameful method,
would likewise proclaim him a false and worthless man. Resolving,
therefore, to kill himself by his own hand rather than be punished by
others, he took the following course. One day that the King happened to
be at Fontainebleau, he sent a peasant to Paris for a certain most
poisonous essence, pretending that he wished to use it for making
colours or varnishes, but intending to poison himself, as he did. The
peasant, then, returned with it; and such was the malignity of the
poison, that, merely through holding his thumb over the mouth of the
phial, carefully stopped as it was with wax, he came very near losing
that member, which was consumed and almost eaten away by the deadly
potency of the poison. And shortly afterwards it slew Rosso, although he
was in perfect health, he having drunk it to the end that it might take
his life, as it did in a few hours.

This news, being brought to the King, grieved him beyond measure, since
it seemed to him that by the death of Rosso he had lost the most
excellent craftsman of his day. However, to the end that the work might
not suffer, he had it carried on by Francesco Primaticcio of Bologna,
who, as has been related, had already done much work for him; giving him
a good Abbey, even as