THE GREAT compliments which this short inspection of my Perseus had
elicited from the noble school of Florence, though they were well known
to the Duke, did not prevent him from saying: “I am delighted that
Benvenuto has had this trifling satisfaction, which will spur him on to
the desired conclusion with more speed and diligence. Do not, however,
let him imagine that, when his Perseus shall be finally exposed to view
from all sides, folk in general will be so lavish of their praises. On
the contrary, I am afraid that all its defects will then be brought home
to him, and more will be detected than the statue really has. So let him
arm himself with patience.” These were precisely the words which
Bandinello had whispered in the Duke’s ears, citing the works of Andrea
del Verrocchio, who made that fine bronze of Christ and S. Thomas on the
front of Orsammichele; at the same time he referred to many other
statues, and dared even to attack the marvellous David of divine Michel
Agnolo Buonarroti, accusing it of only looking well if seen in front;
finally, he touched upon the multitude of sarcastic sonnets which were
called forth by his own Hercules and Cacus, and wound up with abusing
the people of Florence. Now the Duke, who was too much inclined to
credit his assertions, encouraged the fellow to speak thus, and thought
in his own heart that things would go as he had prophesied, because that
envious creature Bandinello never ceased insinuating malice. On one
occasion it happened that the gallows bird Bernardone, the broker, was
present at these conversations, and in support of Bandinello’s
calumnies, he said to the Duke: “You must remember, prince, that statues
on a large scale are quite a different dish of soup from little figures.
I do not refuse him the credit of being excellent at statuettes in
miniature. But you will soon see that he cannot succeed in that other
sphere of art.” To these vile suggestions he added many others of all
sorts, plying his spy’s office, and piling up a mountain of lies to boot.