KNOWING now that I had gratified my father’s honest wish, I began to
think that everything would prosper with me to a glorious and honourable
end. Accordingly, I set myself with indefatigable industry to the
completion of the vase I had begun for Salamanca. That prelate was a
very extraordinary man, extremely rich, but difficult to please. He sent
daily to learn what I was doing; and when his messenger did not find me
at home, he broke into fury, saying that he would take the work out of
my hands and give it to others to finish. This came of my slavery to
that accursed music. Still I laboured diligently night and day, until,
when I had brought my work to a point when it could be exhibited, I
submitted it to the inspection of the Bishop. This so increased his
desire to see it finished that I was sorry I had shown it. At the end of
three months I had it ready, with little animals and foliage and masks,
as beautiful as one could hope to see. No sooner was it done than I sent
it by the hand of my workman, Paulino, to show that able artist
Lucagnolo, of whom I have spoken above. Paulino, with the grace and
beauty which belonged to him, spoke as follows: “Messer Lucagnolo,
Benvenuto bids me say that he has sent to show you his promises and your
lumber, expecting in return to see from you his gewgaws.” This message
given, Lucagnolo took up the vase, and carefully examined it; then he
said to Paulino: “Fair boy, tell your master that he is a great and able
artist, and that I beg him to be willing to have me for a friend, and
not to engage in aught else.” The mission of that virtuous and
marvellous lad caused me the greatest joy; and then the vase was carried
to Salamanca, who ordered it to be valued. Lucagnolo took part in the
valuation, estimating and praising it far above my own opinion.
Salamanca, lifting up the vase, cried like a true Spaniard: “I swear by
God that I will take as long in paying him as he has lagged in making
it.” When I heard this, I was exceedingly put out, and fell to cursing
all Spain and every one who wished well to it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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