If any one could die of grief and shame, I should.This labor was imposed upon me;I did not seek it; and if I assumed it, 'T was not for love of fame or love of gain, But for the love of God.Perhaps old age Deceived me, or self-interest, or ambition;I may be doing harm instead of good.
Therefore, I pray your Holiness, release me;Take off from me the burden of this work;Let me go back to Florence.
JULIUS.
Never, never, While I am living.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Doth your Holiness Remember what the Holy Scriptures say Of the inevitable time, when those Who look out of the windows shall be darkened, And the almond-tree shall flourish?
JULIUS.
That is in Ecclesiastes.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
And the grasshopper Shall be a burden, and desire shall fail, Because man goeth unto his long home.
Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher; all Is vanity.
JULIUS.
Ah, were to do a thing As easy as to dream of doing it, We should not want for artists.But the men Who carry out in act their great designs Are few in number; ay, they may be counted Upon the fingers of this hand.Your place Is at St.Peter's.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
I have had my dream, And cannot carry out my great conception, And put it into act.
JULIUS.
Then who can do it?
You would but leave it to some Baccio Bigio To mangle and deface.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Rather than that I will still bear the burden on my shoulders A little longer.If your Holiness Will keep the world in order, and will leave The building of the church to me, the work Will go on better for it.Holy Father, If all the labors that I have endured, And shall endure, advantage not my soul, I am but losing time.
JULIUS, laying his hands on MICHAEL ANGELO'S shoulders.
You will be gainer Both for your soul and body.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Not events Exasperate me, but the funest conclusions I draw from these events; the sure decline Of art, and all the meaning of that word:
All that embellishes and sweetens life, And lifts it from the level of low cares Into the purer atmosphere of beauty;The faith in the Ideal; the inspiration That made the canons of the church of Seville Say, "Let us build, so that all men hereafter Will say that we were madmen." Holy Father, I beg permission to retire from here.
JULIUS.
Go; and my benediction be upon you.
[Michael Angelo goes out.
My Cardinals, this Michael Angelo Must not be dealt with as a common mason.
He comes of noble blood, and for his crest Bear two bull's horns; and he has given us proof That he can toss with them.From this day forth Unto the end of time, let no man utter The name of Baccio Bigio in my presence.
All great achievements are the natural fruits Of a great character.As trees bear not Their fruits of the same size and quality, But each one in its kind with equal ease, So are great deeds as natural to great men As mean things are to small ones.By his work We know the master.Let us not perplex him.
III
BINDO ALTOVITI
A street in Rome.BINDO ALTOVITI, standing at the door of his house.
MICHAEL ANGELO, passing.
BINDO.
Good-morning, Messer Michael Angelo!
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Good-morning, Messer Bindo Altoviti!
BINDO.
What brings you forth so early?
MICHAEL ANGELO.
The same reason That keeps you standing sentinel at your door,--The air of this delicious summer morning.
What news have you from Florence?
BINDO.
Nothing new;
The same old tale of violence and wrong.
Since the disastrous day at Monte Murlo, When in procession, through San Gallo's gate, Bareheaded, clothed in rags, on sorry steeds, Philippo Strozzi and the good Valori Were led as prisoners down the streets of Florence, Amid the shouts of an ungrateful people, Hope is no more, and liberty no more.
Duke Cosimo, the tyrant, reigns supreme.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Florence is dead: her houses are but tombs;Silence and solitude are in her streets.
BINDO.
Ah yes; and often I repeat the words You wrote upon your statue of the Night, There in the Sacristy of San Lorenzo:
"Grateful to me is sleep; to be of stone More grateful, while the wrong and shame endure;To see not, feel not, is a benediction;
Therefore awake me not; oh, speak in whispers."MICHAEL ANGELO.
Ah, Messer Bindo, the calamities, The fallen fortunes, and the desolation Of Florence are to me a tragedy Deeper than words, and darker than despair.
I, who have worshipped freedom from my cradle, Have loved her with the passion of a lover, And clothed her with all lovely attributes That the imagination can conceive, Or the heart conjure up, now see her dead, And trodden in the dust beneath the feet Of an adventurer! It is a grief Too great for me to bear in my old age.
BINDO.
I say no news from Florence: I am wrong, For Benvenuto writes that he is coming To be my guest in Rome.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Those are good tidings.
He hath been many years away from us.
BINDO.
Pray you, come in.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
I have not time to stay, And yet I will.I see from here your house Is filled with works of art.That bust in bronze Is of yourself.Tell me, who is the master That works in such an admirable way, And with such power and feeling?
BINDO.
Benvenuto.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Ah? Benvenuto? 'T is a masterpiece!
It pleases me as much, and even more, Than the antiques about it; and yet they Are of the best one sees.But you have placed it By far too high.The light comes from below, And injures the expression.Were these windows Above and not beneath it, then indeed It would maintain its own among these works Of the old masters, noble as they are.
I will go in and study it more closely.
I always prophesied that Benvenuto, With all his follies and fantastic ways, Would show his genius in some work of art That would amaze the world, and be a challenge Unto all other artists of his time.
[They go in.
IV
IN THE COLISEUM
MICHAEL ANGELO and TOMASO DE CAVALIERI
CAVALIERI.
What have you here alone, Messer Michele?
MICHAEL ANGELO.
I come to learn.
CAVALIERI.
You are already master, And teach all other men.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Nay, I know nothing;
