THIS letter fell into the hands of my master Ulivieri, and he read it
unknown to me. Afterwards he avowed that he had read it, and added: “So
then, my Benvenuto, your good looks did not deceive me, as a letter from
your father which has come into my hands gives me assurance, which
proves him to be a man of notable honesty and worth. Consider yourself
then to be at home here, and as though in your own father’s house.”
While I stayed at Pisa, I went to see the Campo Santo, and there I found
many beautiful fragments of antiquity, that is to say, marble
sarcophagi. In other parts of Pisa also I saw many antique objects,
which I diligently studied whenever I had days or hours free from the
labour of the workshop. My master, who took pleasure in coming to visit
me in the little room which he had allotted me, observing that I spent
all my time in studious occupations, began to love me like a father. I
made great progress in the one year that I stayed there, and completed
several fine and valuable things in gold and silver, which inspired me
with a resolute ambition to advance in my art.
My father, in the meanwhile, kept writing piteous entreaties that I
should return to him; and in every letter bade me not to lose the music
he had taught me with such trouble. On this, I suddenly gave up all wish
to go back to him; so much did I hate that accursed music; and I felt as
though of a truth I were in paradise the whole year I stayed at Pisa,
where I never played the flute.
At the end of the year my master Ulivieri had occasion to go to
Florence, in order to sell certain gold and silver sweepings which he
had; [1] and inasmuch as the bad air of Pisa had given me a touch of
fever, I went with the fever hanging still about me, in my master’s
company, back to Florence. There my father received him most
affectionately, and lovingly prayed him, unknown by me, not to insist on
taking me again to Pisa. I was ill about two months, during which time
my father had me most kindly treated and cured, always repeating that it
seemed to him a thousand years till I got well again, in order that he
might hear me play a little. But when he talked to me of music, with his
fingers on my pulse, seeing he had some acquaintance with medicine and
Latin learning, he felt it change so much if he approached that topic,
that he was often dismayed and left my side in tears. When I perceived
how greatly he was disappointed, I bade one of my sisters bring me a
flute; for though the fever never left me, that instrument is so easy
that it did not hurt me to play upon it; and I used it with such
dexterity of hand and tongue that my father coming suddenly upon me,
blessed me a thousand times, exclaiming that while I was away from him I
had made great progress, as he thought; and he begged me to go forwards,
and not to sacrifice so fine an accomplishment.
Note 1. I have translated 'spazzature' by 'sweepings.' It means all
refuse of the precious metals left in goldsmith’s trays.