LVII
When the Pope took his journey to Bologna, he left Cardinal Salviati as Legate of Rome, and gave him commission to push the work that I was doing forward, adding: “Benvenuto is a fellow who esteems his own great talents but slightly, and us less; look to it then that you keep him always going, so that I may find the chalice finished on my return.”
That beast of a Cardinal sent for me after eight days, bidding me bring the piece up. On this I went to him without the piece. No sooner had I shown my face, than he called out: “Where is that onion-stew of yours?〖Cipollata. Literally, a show of onions and pumpkins; metaphorically, a mess, gallimaufry.〗 Have you got it ready?” I answered: “O most reverend Monsignor, I have not got my onion-stew ready, nor shall I make it ready, unless you give me onions to concoct it with.” At these words the Cardinal, who looked more like a donkey than a man, turned uglier by half than he was naturally; and wanting at once to cut the matter short, cried out: “I'll send you to a galley, and then perhaps you'll have the grace〖Arai di grazia di. I am not sure whether I have given the right shade of meaning in the text above. It may mean: You will be permitted.〗 to go on with your labour.” The bestial manners of the man made me a beast too; and I retorted: “Monsignor, send me to the galleys when I've done deeds worthy of them; but for my present laches, I snap my fingers at your galleys: and what is more, I tell you that, just because of you, I will not set hand further to my piece. Don't send for me again, for I won't appear, no, not if you summon me by the police.”
After this, the good Cardinal tried several times to let me know that I ought to go on working, and to bring him what I was doing to look at. I only told his messengers: “Say to Monsignor that he must send me onions, if he wants me to get my stew ready.” Nor gave I ever any other answer; so that he threw up the commission in despair.