Seiobo There Below (4 page)

Sandro had said that while he was away, they should accept even the smallest commission; the workshop had been in operation for only a year and a half altogether, in other words was still unknown, and moreover, the distinguished neighbor himself, Signor Giorgio Antonio Vespucci, had sent the venerable caftaned Jews to them while others had not, so that alluding to the absence of the master painter of the workshop, Alessandro Battigello, who was presently working at the request of Signor Tommaso Soderini for the Sei della Mercanzia — in other words the Chamber of Merchants — Filippo di Filippi Lippi explained that he would consequently negotiate with them, and he requested with great respect that they take a seat; they, however, only looked around at each other perplexed, not knowing what to do, they could hardly discuss this matter with such a whelp of a boy, clearly only an apprentice here, but he, understanding the game that was being played out in their glances, informed them that no matter how young he might seem, he was neither apprentice nor servant in this painting atelier, nor any sort of sluggard, but instead Filippino Lippi, the most fully authorized
fel-low-mas-ter
of Signor Alessandro di Mariano Filipepi, better known as Sandro Battigello, and — as they might have guessed from his name, he was none other than the only son of the renowned Fra Filippo Lippi, so they could compose themselves and at last take a seat, and hold forth in all tranquility as to the matter that had brought them here, he would be of assistance to them inasmuch as he possibly could, and they only stared at the adroit youth; then the eldest among them surveyed him for a bit and then smiled, nodded to the others, and so it happened that the commission for the preparation of the two forzieri was handled by Filippino himself, by himself and in full; it was the very first commission of its kind for the workshop; there is to be a wedding ceremony, the old Jew explained at length, fingering his white beard, nuptials — and here followed a name that Filippino, even when asking to hear it again, could not grasp — in a certain family, and on this occasion they were, at the recommendation of the younger sister of Signor Vespucci, turning to the workshop of Signor Alessandro di Mariano to ask if he would undertake this commission, which was to be completed by the last day of the year; ah, two forzieri, nodded Filippino very seriously, but suddenly he fell silent and his lips were pursed, like one who is pondering whether his workshop could take on yet one more commission alongside so many others, yes, replied the old man, and from this point on he looked at the figure of the fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy more decisively; with the usual measurements, he said, but not the usual technique; he lifted up his long index finger, for they — that is to say the family — meaning the family of the bride, he continued, forming his words slowly, desired this pair of forzieri not to be carved, as was often the case, but it had to be painted, and that was why they had come to Signor Sandro di Mariano: they wished the young master to paint the story of Esther, from the Hebrew Bible, onto the two forzieri; the surfaces of the longer and shorter sides of the chest would be employed but not the lid, and the back part should also be left untouched, as it would be resting against the wall in the bedroom of the newly wedded pair, so that, in brief, altogether there were two long rectangular surfaces and two roughly square-shaped ones, the old man explained, and that means that Signor Sandro di Mariano, taking everything into account, has two larger and four smaller surfaces at his disposal, but of course — the old man looked around the somewhat disorderly workshop, not bothering to conceal his doubts — all the work has to be undertaken by the master, so that he will have to arrange for the carpentry and the goldsmithing as well; that is no problem at all, Filippino interrupted him, as for a goldsmith one could not find anyone better matched to the task than the master’s older brother Antonio, and as for the carpentry, for many years now they had worked in collaboration with Giuliano da Sangallo, the celebrated master carpenter, at which the old man raised his bushy eyebrows, yes, replied Filippino just as decisively as he possibly could, they’d been familiar with his work for quite a long time, and were greatly satisfied with it, but at this the entire family — principally the younger members, who were seated in the back, near the entranceway, listening in to the conversation from there — began to smile; so would the gentleman please state first what size of forziera he had in mind, asked Filippino as he leaned toward the old man with a serious gaze, for he did not like this general mirth; well, the old man gestured with both his hands, about this big; fine, said Filippino, nodding at the measurement; he snatched up a longish slat of wood, drawing a notch in it, and took it over to the old man, is this what you were thinking for the length, he asked; as he measured with his hands the length he had just demonstrated to the boy, the old man was clearly astounded, as it clearly corresponded to the length notched into the slat; then, as it were, beginning to speak seriously and directing the boy back in front of himself with his distinguished eyebrows, he gestured backward to one of the younger members of the family, and there appeared in an instant in his hand a piece of fabric with a drawing on it, clearly showing the desired forziera, indicating the precise measurements — well let us see, and now the old man gazed deeply into Filippino’s eyes, repeat to me exactly what we want, as afterward you will have to repeat it to your . . . fellow painter, if he comes back; then he leaned back a little in his chair, which however had no back, as it was only a simple wooden stool, as was used in such workshops; Filippino smiled for a brief moment but then immediately and ceremoniously began to speak, saying that the distinguished guests had, on the eleventh of August, in the year of Our Lord 1470, in the workshop of Sandro Battigello, ordered the construction of two forzieri in the proportions indicated on the section of homespun and, as I see it, he continued, raising the piece of fabric closer to his eyes, it shall be from the very finest poplar wood, thus all of the carpentry as well as the goldsmithing work shall be combined with this particular commission, according to which the
workshop
of the master under discussion shall paint the story of the entire Book of Esther onto the two front-panels and the sides of the forzieri; the date of completion, however, shall be designated as the last day of the year, so let that be as well the date for receipt of the stipulated remuneration of fifteen golden florins per piece, in such a way — here the old Jew, taking up the conversation, gazed at the boy with ever-growing satisfaction, but as if not having heard the recommendation concerning the price; he recommended that on the one main panel there should be the depiction of Esther pleading for mercy before the king, and on the other the portrayal of the gratitude of the Jewish people; the side panels, however, should portray the main protagonists — Ahasuerus, Haman, Mordechai, naturally with Esther in the foreground; of course, replied Filippino coolly, with a severe frown, of course Sandro Battigello will be the one to conceive first, in what manner, how it will be possible to convey one entire book of the Holy Writ onto a total of six panels, in such a way that the essence is transmitted, he shall be the one to decide; at which point the old man — who was more or less expecting such a response — smiled, gazed back at the others, bowed to Filippino, and answered him, saying yes, my dear boy, I envisaged it just as you said, and with that he rose from his seat and looking at the boy with a warm glance, motioned to the others, stepped out onto the Via Nuova, then, shaking his head, serenely murmured to himself, what next, you little urchin, fifteen gold florins, and per piece! — then he clasped his hands behind his back and with his extensive clan behind him, who had already broken out into loud conversation, merrily analyzing just what kind of a workshop this was, he withdrew from the scorching sun, so that the entire company under his guidance continued slowly to vanish into the shaded side of the Chiesa di Ognissanti.

Although founded by Cyrus the Great, and expanded by Darius, the Persian Empire became truly great only through Artaxerxes Mnemon II, this — in the view of his contemporaries and later the historians — feeble, susceptible, enervated, and at first, this delicate and generous man, who was originally called
Ŗtaxšaçā
in his own language, and then later called Artsaces by the Greeks, and who for a long time could not get over having had to bury the eunuch Tiridates, the boy-love of his youth, before — as perhaps Herodotus has noted — he had a chance to emerge from childhood; his grief was so great that he ordered the assumption and the practicing of the deepest mourning across the entire Empire, at which his mother, in the hopes of bringing it to an end, threw all her might into the creation of a marital union auspicious for the Empire, through which she also wished to obstruct him, Artsaces, from gaining the throne, for in her heart — if in the case of Parysatis we can even speak of such a thing as a heart — she intended the throne for her second-born, but in vain, not even one of her plans came to fruition, for she had to behold as her favorite, the passionate Cyrus the Younger, created to rule, died at Cunaxa, and it was precisely the despised first-born, and then again the Babylonian slut designated for the marriage not only didn’t encumber Artaxerxes II’s ascension to the throne, but actually directly expedited it, for that accursed foreign serpent, as Parysatis called her among her closest devotees, had become so popular practically since her very first public appearance, when, in procession behind her husband, the Emperor, she was able to take part in a large festival dedicated to Ahura Mazda, that the people wanted to see her on the queen’s throne immediately, and there they saw her, because the Emperor wanted to see her there too, and the magi of the Medes placed the crown on her head, and she became the Great Queen of the powerful Empire, and she became as well the one for whom the Emperor, in one swift blow, could forget his bereavement over Tiridates, for it was enough to look at Vashti and he was bewitched; Parysatis tried everything humanly possible against her, availing herself of the wives secluded in the zenana, particularly the jealous Ionian Asparia, pushed into the gray background of the zenana because of Vashti; she used all the machinations of zenana-intrigue, she used the priests of the faith of Marduk and the priests opposed to the faith of Marduk, as well as the so-called “male societies” formed to resist the autocracy of Ahura Mazda, as well as the antipathies of the Zoroastrian priests who repudiated these “male societies,” she tried everything but without result, her first-born, and not high-born, was blinded by the Babylonian beauty, who sat upon the throne and wore the crown on her sweetly curling flaxen hair as if she had always been seated upon that throne, and as if that crown had always been meant for her; simply put, nothing could touch her, nothing in the entire God-given world, Vashti’s position grew ever more solid, in parallel with the Empire, which again only strengthened the position of the Great Queen as it grew and became ever more powerful, never had there been an Empire of this extent in all the world within the reason’s grasp, in addition the residents of the Empire relished the great peace in the wake of the great wars, which they ascribed to the personal talents of the Emperor, taking it as equal proof that the most supreme Deity of the Heavens, Ahura Mazda, was happy to see the Great King upon the throne; in short, Vashti seemed unassailable; the Queen Mother fretted in her apartments, maddened by the impotence of her fury, only able to trust now that something would happen to bring about the end — as it usually did — to this nauseating peace in the Empire and this deplorable romance in the royal palace, she watched the Great King, growing ever stouter, and she was besieged by splitting headaches, she watched the radiant Babylonian slut and she was nauseated, but for the time being there was nothing she could do, just keep watching, Parysatis said to herself in between the headaches and the nausea, one day this too will come to an end, because Ahura Mazda in the heavens wished it so, and thus it came about, and her waiting and her torment were not in vain, for the end did come, so easily, so self-evidently that she herself, Parysatis, was the most surprised of all, when she heard after the conclusion of the official celebration of the monarch’s ascension to the throne that the Great King was held by even his closest devotees to be incapable of the most trifling of decisions, and the word had began to spread as well in the subjugated provinces that the Emperor was weak; Artaxerxes would permit anything at all, but not this, so that after the rejoicing, lasting 180 days, a festival of seven days was ordered for the old and newly conquered princes, the old and newly conquered kings, to be held on the opposite bank of the river, in the Apadana, built as it were to face the palace of Darius in Susa in order to demonstrate the dignity of his right to the throne and his strength — but from this point on everything became very confused, and even Parysatis could only follow the events with difficulty, as for a while she had believed that the Great King was incapable of true wrath; the first reports of this had already arrived, the only problem being that custom did not allow her to approach the Apadana herself, to witness with her own two eyes at this so-called celebration, descended into drunken roistering, this anger, in any case the second report spoke of violent rage, the eunuchs practically flying between the zenana and the Apadana, the Emperor is foaming at the mouth, they whispered into her ear, he is jabbering and yammering and howling and bawling, and all of the guests are in shock; the celebration has fallen apart and come to an end; they reported, in the palaces of Susa, of the unexpected events; and Parysatis was happy once again, for the mere fact that the Emperor’s repulsive yet seemingly unassailable sense that there could be no problems at all between him and Vashti, for whatever foolishly squalid reasons, thrilled her, so that both her headaches and her nausea immediately disappeared; she felt wonderful, her eyes glittered, her brow unfurrowed, her back straightened, once again assuming that immovable face, so dreaded by all those around her, while Vashti herself was writhing between proud dignity and wounded humiliation, sitting in the audience hall of the Queen’s apartments convinced of the justness of her own response, and waited for him, the one of whom and from whom such appalling reports arrived, she waited for the Great King but he did not come, only more and more reports, and Vashti fell deeper and deeper into shock, and grew despondent, and she could know already what was to follow, for there was nothing else that could follow, she knew how the council — the convening of which she had been, in keeping with tradition, immediately informed — would decide, just as they were, drunken and starving for a fatal scandal, that she would have to proceed from the queen’s apartments across the desolate palace to the forbidden gate, she would have to follow the centuries-old mandate and take the first steps of exile, so that in the end she would be no more than one smothered in ashes, like a dog that had disobeyed.