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'Non ha l'ottimo artista alcun concetto Che un marmo solo in se non circunscriva." It has been, or should be remarked, that, in the manner of the true gentleman, we are always aware of a difference from the bearing of the vulgar, without being at once precisely able to determine in what such difference consists.
The history of Florence illustrates more clearly than that of any other town the vast importance acquired by trades and guilds in politics at this epoch of the civil wars. This is the sting of Cacciaguida's scornful lamentation over Florence Par. xvi. Ma la cittadinanza, ch' è or mista Di Campi e di Certaldo e di Figghine, Pura vedeasi nell' ultimo artista.
And the Signora meanwhile would juggle with a piece of paper, an egg, and a cannonball. O Jesu! They should see! He stopped and looked at Hermia. A Femme Orchestre! In all his travels in Italy he had never seen one. The signora was an artista, though. That was clear. One only had to look at her to see that. He would listen with delight to her music.
It contained the treatise alluded to above, and also a commentary upon one of Michelangelo's sonnets, "Non ha l'ottimo artista alcun concetto." The book was duly sent to Michelangelo by the favour of a noble Florentine gentleman, Luca Martini. He responded to the present in a letter which deserves here to be recited.
Non ha l'ottimo artista alcun concetto, Ch' un marmo solo in se non circoseriva Col suo soverchio, e solo a quello arriva La man che obbedisce all' intelletto. The sculptor never yet conceived a thought That yielding marble has refused to aid; But never with a mastery he wrought Save when the hand the intellect obeyed.
The same clearness of thought and obscurity of expression and the same passion is to be found in the famous sonnet "Non ha l' ottimo artista alcun concetto," where he blames himself for not being able to obtain her good-will as a bad sculptor who cannot hew out the beauty from the rock, although he feels it to be there; and in that heart-breaking one where he says that people may only draw from life what they give to it, and says no good can come to a man who, looking on such great beauty, feels such pain.
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