I promised to tell you something about the finest sort of rubies, but
before doing this, I want you to know something about another sort
of ruby, called the white ruby. This stone is white by nature, not
by any heating process like the other stones mentioned above, & its
whiteness may be likened to the chalcedony, the twin sister of the
cornelian. The latter has a sort of unpleasing livid pallor, & for
this reason is not used much.
I have oft found many such in the bellies of wild fowl, so also the
loveliest turquoises. I used to be very fond of going out shooting. I
made my own powder, and became such a rare fine shot, that I should
be ready to stand any test you like. I always shot with the simple
ball, & as for the powder, well, I’ll talk of that in its right
place, but it was quite different from the powder commonly used. In
this wise did I use to march over the Roman Campagna, at the time
when the birds of passage return, and in their bellies I found stones
of all sorts, turquoises, white & coloured rubies, also emeralds, &
every now and again a pearl. But, as I said, these white rubies are
of very little use; only you know them for rubies because of their
great hardness.
Of carbuncles: according to promise I’ll tell you of these, & first
of what I have seen with my own eyes. In the time of Pope Clement
VII. there turned up a certain Raugeo, who was called Biagio di
Bono. This man had a white carbuncle, similar to the white ruby
mentioned above, but possessing so delightful a brilliance, that
it shone in the dark, not so splendidly perhaps as the coloured
carbuncles, but still so that when you put it into a very dark
place it seemed as a glowing ember, and this did I see with my own
eyes—but I must tell you in this connection an anecdote of a little
old Roman gentleman—old, did I say?—nay, very old, for his grandson
was one of my shop assistants. This man came often to my place, &
always had lots of pretty things to chat about. One fine day we fell
a-talking about gems, and the old gentleman spake thus: ‘Once when
I was a young man, I happed to be in the Piazza Colonna, and I saw
one Jacopo Cola, a distant kinsman of mine, coming along; he was
beaming all over, and he held out his closed fist to some friends
who had been sitting on a bench hard by, and were just getting up.
He spake thus to them: “What d’ye think, my friends? I’ve made a
good day to-day, for I’ve found a little stone so beautiful that it
is worth many scudi, and I found it in my vineyard, and I suppose
it must have belonged to our ancestors, because as you know this
vineyard lies beneath the great ruins familiar to all of you. Well,
when I was coming home from work, & had gone about 200 yards, I was
prompted to make water. As I was doing this and looking towards the
vineyard, I fancied I saw a spark glowing at the foot of one of my
vines; it seemed to me a perfect age before I could finish what I
was about. When I did, I’m blessed if I could find anything, however
hard I tried; so I thought I’d go back again & have another look, and
keep my eyes fixed upon it, so back I went the same way, and then
all of a sudden out burst the spark again. Well, I kept looking &
looking at it, till, see here! I found this,”—so saying he opened his
fist and showed his treasure. While he had been talking, a Venetian
ambassador, who was coming along on his mule with a few servants, had
stopped to listen. After a bit this gentleman came up close, as if he
wanted to hear all about this wonder of a fire being transformed into
a stone; then, very politely accosting my poor kinsman, “Gentlemen,”
said he, “If I am not presuming upon you, or appear to be taking too
great a liberty, might I beg of this gentleman to allow me to look at
the beautiful stone that he says he found in his vineyard.” At these
words Cola opened his fist, which he had kept locked up tight, & said
to the ambassador: “There he is, look at him as much as you like!”
The Venetian gentleman, who was a man of perfect manners, continued
with the politest language: “If I am not appearing too presumptuous,”
he said, “I would make so bold as to ask if you, sir, are disposed
to part with the stone, & if so, at what you esteem its value?” The
poor Roman, whose coat was somewhat frayed & out at elbows—a fact
which had given the Venetian pluck to drive his bargain—said: “Well,
it isn’t exactly that I’ve got to sweat for my daily bread, but if
you’re ready to pay the stone’s value, I don’t mind obliging you.
Look at him well now, and see if you like him. I shall require ten
ducats of the Camera for him.” The Venetian simpered satisfaction for
a bit, & then spake in the fashion of those polished gentlemen, much
more polished than your Roman, who, though they are examples to the
world in glory, are not up to your consummate Venetian in speech—they
can’t _out_ with it fast enough: “One favour only I beg of you; I
never carry much money in my purse, may I entreat you to send the
jewel to me by some trusty servant of yours, & I will give him what
you have asked.” The poor Roman, who knew no trustier friend than
himself, said he would go along with him personally, and winking to
one of his mates, to whom he had told all his adversity, he strode
off with the ambassador, who dismounted & walked beside him. Then
the Venetian, in order to prevent the latter from repenting of his
bargain, began chatting in the most delicious manner, in a manner
such as only your Venetian can, & enough to take any Roman’s breath
away. The one listened, enjoying these exquisite nothings, the other
prattled along as hard as he could, the journey really seeming an
eternity to him. At length he reached his house, and putting his
hand into a purse in which he had a great pile of ducats of the
Camera, he spread them out with open hand before the astonished gaze
of the poor Roman; the latter, who had gone many a long year without
seeing the like of such, feasted his eyes on this delicious looking
gold, & then put the jewel in the ambassador’s hand. One, two, three,
the latter counted out the ten ducats, shouted in haste to his
servants that they should saddle his good horse, & taking out two
more ducats, called out to the Roman, who was just going off: “Here,
I say, these two gold ducats I give you over & above our bargain,
to buy a rope to hang yourself with!” The proud Roman couldn’t make
out why he was thus spoken to; he fired up, & wanted to make for the
ambassador, but our fine gentleman quickly mounted his horse, and
sped away from Rome. Later on it transpired that he had had the jewel
beautifully set, and gone off with it to Constantinople, where a new
prince had ascended the throne. Owing to the rarity of the stone, he
asked and received for it a fabulous sum, with which he afterwards
betook himself again to Venice.’ That is all I ever heard of this
kind of carbuncle.