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Book FirstPart VII
Part VII
When my father spoke to me in the way I have above described, I entreated
him to let me draw a certain fixed number of hours in the day; all the rest of
my time I would give to music, only with the view of satisfying his desire.
Upon this he said to me: "So then, you take no pleasure in playing?" To which
I answered, "No;" because that art seemed too base in comparison with what I
had in my own mind. My good father, driven to despair by this fixed idea of
mine, placed me in the workshop of Cavaliere Bandinello`s father, who was
called Michel Agnolo, a goldsmith from Pinzi di Monte, and a master excellent
in that craft. ^1 He had no distinction of birth whatever, but was the son of
a charcoal-seller. This is no blame to Bandinello, who has founded the honour
of the family - if only he had done so honestly! However that may be, I have
no cause now to talk about him. After I had stayed there some days, my father
took me away from Michel Agnolo, finding himself unable to live without having
me always under his eyes. Accordingly, much to my discontent, I remained at
music till I reached the age of fifteen. If I were to describe all the
wonderful things that happened to me up to that time, and all the great
dangers to my own life which I ran, I should astound my readers; but, in order
to avoid prolixity, and having very much to relate, I will omit these
incidents.
[Footnote 1: Baccio Bandinello, the sculptor, and a great rival of Cellini`s,
as will appear in the ensuing pages, was born in 1487, and received the honour
of knighthood from Clement VII and Charles V. Posterity has confirmed
Cellini`s opinion of Bandinello as an artist; for his works are coarse,
pretentious, and incapable of giving pleasure to any person of refined
intelligence.]
[See Charles V: Charles V, by Titian.]
[See Baccio Bandinello: Baccio bandinello, by himself.]
[See Pope Clement VII: Pope Clement VII, Sebastiano Del Piombo.]
When I reached the age of fifteen, I put myself, against my father`s
will, to the goldsmith`s trade with a man called Antonio, son of Sandro, known
commonly as Marcone the goldsmith. He was a most excellent craftsman and a
very good fellow to boot, high-spirited and frank in all his ways. My father
would not let him give me wages like the other apprentices; for having taken
up the study of this art to please myself, he wished me to indulge my whim for
drawing to the full. I did so willingly enough; and that honest master of mine
took marvellous delight in my performances. He had an only son, a bastard, to
whom he often gave his orders, in order to spare me. My liking for the art was
so great, or, I may truly say, my natural bias, both one and the other, that
in a few months I caught up the good, nay, the best young craftsmen in our
business, and began to reap the fruits of my labours. I did not, however,
neglect to gratify my good father from time to time by playing on the flute or
cornet. Each time he heard me, I used to make his tears fall accompanied with
deep-drawn sighs of satisfaction. My filial piety often made me give him
that contentment, and induce me to pretend that I enjoyed the music too.
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