* * * *
*
40
pic’ tures pal’ ace four’ teen
fa’ mous ly scul’ lion re past’
in hal’ ing en chant’ ed mat’ tress
char’ coal land’ scapes ar’ chi
tect
A little shepherd boy, twelve years old, one day gave
up the care of the sheep he was tending, and betook
himself to Florence, where he knew no one but a lad
of his own age, nearly as poor as himself, who had
lived in the same village, but who had gone to Florence
to be scullion in the house of Cardinal Sachetti.
It was for a good motive that little Peter desired
to come to Florence: he wanted to be an artist,
and he knew there was a school for artists there.
When he had seen the town well, Peter stationed himself
at the Cardinal’s palace; and inhaling the odor
of the cooking, he waited patiently till his Eminence
was served, that he might speak to his old companion,
Thomas. He had to wait a long time; but at length
Thomas appeared.
“You here, Peter! What have you come to
Florence for?”
“I am come to learn painting.”
“You had much better learn kitchen work to begin
with; one is then sure not to die of hunger.”
“You have as much to eat as you want here, then?”
replied Peter.
“Indeed I have,” said Thomas; “I
might eat till I made myself ill every day, if I chose
to do it.”
“Then,” said Peter, “I see we shall
do very well. As you have too much and I not
enough, I will bring my appetite, and you will bring
the food; and we shall get on famously.”
“Very well,” said Thomas.
“Let us begin at once, then,” said Peter;
“for as I have eaten nothing to-day, I should
like to try the plan directly.”
Thomas then took little Peter into the garret where
he slept, and bade him wait there till he brought
him some fragments that he was freely permitted to
take. The repast was a merry one, for Thomas was
in high spirits, and little Peter had a famous appetite.
“Ah,” cried Thomas, “here you are
fed and lodged. Now the question is, how are
you going to study?”
“I shall study like all artists—with
pencil and paper.”
“But then, Peter, have you money to buy the
paper and pencils?”
“No, I have nothing; but I said to myself, ’Thomas,
who is scullion at his lordship’s, must have
plenty of money!’ As you are rich, it is just
the same as if I was.”
Thomas scratched his head and replied, that as to
broken victuals, he had plenty of them; but that he
would have to wait three years before he should receive
wages. Peter did not mind. The garret walls
were white. Thomas could give him charcoal, and
so he set to draw on the walls with that; and after
a little while somebody gave Thomas a silver coin.
With joy he brought it to his friend. Pencils
and paper were bought. Early in the morning Peter
went out studying the pictures in the galleries, the
statues in the streets, the landscapes in the neighborhood;
and in the evening, tired and hungry, but enchanted
with what he had seen, he crept back into the garret,
where he was always sure to find his dinner hidden
under the mattress, to keep it warm, as Thomas
said. Very soon the first charcoal drawings were
rubbed off, and Peter drew his best designs to ornament
his friend’s room.
