"Among the Three Hundred Stories of Franco Saccheti," says Vasari, "we
find it related to begin with, what our artist did in his youth--that
when Buffalmacco was studying with Andrea Tafi, his master had the habit
of rising before daylight when the nights were long, compelling his
scholars also to awake and proceed to their work. This provoked
Buonamico, who did not approve of being aroused from his sweetest
sleep. He accordingly bethought himself of finding some means by which
Andrea might be prevented from rising so early, and soon found what he
sought." Now it happened that Tafi was a very superstitious man,
believing that demons and hobgoblins walked the earth at their pleasure.
Buffalmacco, having caught about thirty large beetles, he fastened to
the back of each, by means of small needles, a minute taper, which he
lighted, and sent them one by one into his master's room, through a
crack in the door, about the time he was accustomed to rise and summon
him to his labors. Tafi seeing these strange lights wandering about his
room, began to tremble with fright, and repeated his prayers and
exorcisms, but finding they produced no effect on the apparitions, he
covered his head with the bed clothes, and lay almost petrified with
terror till daylight. When he rose he enquired of Buonamico, if "he had
seen more than a thousand demons wandering about his room, as he had
himself in the night?" Buonamico replied that he had seen nothing, and
wondered he had not been called to work. "Call thee to work!" exclaimed
the master, "I had other things to think of besides painting, and am
resolved to stay in this house no longer;" and away he ran to consult
the parish priest, who seems to have been as superstitious as the poor
painter himself. When Tafi discoursed of this strange affair with
Buonamico, the latter told him that he had been taught to believe that
the demons were the greatest enemies of God, consequently they must be
the most deadly adversaries of painters. "For," said he, "besides that
we always make them most hideous, we think of nothing but painting
saints, both men and women, on walls and pictures, which is much worse,
since we thereby render men better and more devout to the great despite
of the demons; and for all this, the devils being angry with us, and
having more power by night than by day, they play these tricks upon us.
I verily believe too, that they will get worse and worse, if this
practice of rising to work in the night be not discontinued altogether."
Buffalmacco then advised his master to make the experiment, and see
whether the devils would disturb him if he did not work at night. Tafi
followed this advice for a short time, and the demons ceased to disturb
him; but forgetting his fright, he began to rise betimes, as before, and
to call Buffalmacco to his work. The beetles then recommenced their
wanderings, till Tafi was compelled by his fears and the earnest advice
of the priest to desist altogether from that practice. "Nay," says
Vasari, "the story becoming known through the city, produced such an
effect that neither Tafi, nor any other painter dared for a long time to
work at night."
Another laughable story is related of Buffalmacco's ingenuity to rid
himself of annoyance. Soon after he left Tafi, he took apartments
adjoining those occupied by a man who was a penurious old simpleton,
and compelled his wife to rise long before daylight to commence work at
her spinning wheel. The old woman was often at her wheel, when Buonamico
retired to bed from his revels. The buzz of the instrument put all sleep
out of the question; so the painter resolved to put a stop to this
annoyance. Having provided himself with a long tube, and removed a brick
next to the chimney, he watched his opportunity, and blew salt into
their soup till it was spoiled. He then succeeded in making them believe
that it was the work of demons, and to desist from such early rising.
Whenever the old woman touched her wheel before daylight, the soup was
sure to be spoiled, but when she was allowed reasonable rest, it was
fresh and savory.