THE POPE came back from Bologna, and sent at once for me, because the
Cardinal had written the worst he could of my affairs in his despatches.
He was in the hottest rage imaginable, and bade me come upon the instant
with my piece. I obeyed. Now, while the Pope was staying at Bologna, I
had suffered from an attack of inflammation in the eyes, so painful that
I scarce could go on living for the torment; and this was the chief
reason why I had not carried out my work. The trouble was so serious
that I expected for certain to be left without my eyesight; and I had
reckoned up the sum on which I could subsist, if I were blind for life.
Upon the way to the Pope, I turned over in my mind what I should put
forward to excuse myself for not having been able to advance his work. I
thought that while he was inspecting the chalice, I might tell him of my
personal embarrassments. However, I was unable to do so; for when I
arrived in the presence, he broke out coarsely at me: “Come here with
your work; is it finished?” I displayed it; and his temper rising, he
exclaimed: “In God’s truth I tell thee, thou that makest it thy business
to hold no man in regard, that, were it not for decency and order, I
would have thee chucked together with thy work there out of windows.”
Accordingly, when I perceived that the Pope had become no better than a
vicious beast, my chief anxiety was how I could manage to withdraw from
his presence. So, while he went on bullying, I tucked the piece beneath
my cape, and muttered under my breath: “The whole world could not compel
a blind man to execute such things as these.” Raising his voice still
higher, the Pope shouted: “Come here; what say’st thou?” I stayed in two
minds, whether or not to dash at full speed down the staircase; then I
took my decision and threw myself upon my knees, shouting as loudly as I
could, for he too had not ceased from shouting: “If an infirmidy has
blinded me, am I bound to go on working?” He retorted: “You saw well
enough to make your way hither, and I don’t believe one word of what you
say.” I answered, for I noticed he had dropped his voice a little: “Let
your Holiness inquire of your physician, and you will find the truth
out.” He said: “So ho! softly; at leisure we shall hear if what you say
is so.” Then, perceiving that he was willing to give me hearing, I
added: “I am convinced that the only cause of this great trouble which
has happened to me is Cardinal Salviati; for he sent to me immediately
after your holiness’ departure, and when I presented myself, he called
my work a stew of onions, and told me he would send me to complete it in
a galley; and such was the effect upon me of his knavish words, that in
my passion I felt my face in flame, and so intolerable a heat attacked
my eyes that I could not find my own way home. Two days afterwards,
cataracts fell on both my eyes; I quite lost my sight, and after your
holiness’ departure I have been unable to work at all.”
Rising from my knees, I left the presence without further license. It
was afterwards reported to me that the Pope has said: “One can give
commissions, but not the prudence to perform them. I did not tell the
Cardinal to go so brutally about this business. [1] If it is true that
he is suffering from his eyes, of which I shall get information through
my doctor, one ought to make allowance for him.” A great gentleman,
intimate with the Pope, and a man of very distinguished parts, happened
to be present. He asked who I was, using terms like these: “Most blessed
Father, pardon if I put a question. I have seen you yield at one and the
same time to the hottest anger I ever observed, and then to the warmest
compassion; so I beg your Holiness to tell me who the man is; for if he
is a person worthy to be helped, I can teach him a secret which may cure
him of that infirmity.” The Pope replied: “He is the greatest artist who
was ever born in his own craft; one day, when we are together, I will
show you some of his marvellous works, and the man himself to boot; and
I shall be pleased if we can see our way toward doing something to
assist him.” Three days after this, the Pope sent for me after
dinnertime, and I found that great noble in the presence. On my arrival,
the Pope had my cope-button brought, and I in the meantime drew forth my
chalice. The nobleman said, on looking at it, that he had never seen a
more stupendous piece of work. When the button came, he was still more
struck with wonder: and looking me straight in the face, he added: “The
man is young, I trow, to be so able in his art, and still apt enough to
learn much.” He then asked me what my name was. I answered: “My name is
Benvenuto.” He replied: “And Benvenuto shall I be this day to you. Take
flower-de-luces, stalk, blossom, root, together; then decoct them over a
slack fire; and with the liquid bathe your eyes several times a day; you
will most certainly be cured of that weakness; but see that you purge
first, and then go forward with the lotion.” The Pope gave me some kind
words, and so I went away half satisfied.