Marzios Crucifix and Zoroaster | Page 5

deputies
at all," observed the apprentice, playing with his hammer.
"Such as these are--no! A few of them I would put into the acid bath, as
I would a casting, to clean them before chiselling them down. They

might be good for something then. You must begin by knocking down,
boy, if you want to build up. You must knock down everything, raze
the existing system to the ground, and upon the place where it stood
shall rise the mighty temple of immortal liberty."
"And who will buy your chalices and monstrances under the new order
of things?" inquired Gianbattista coldly.
"The foreign market," returned Marzio. "Italy shall be herself again, as
she was in the days of Michael Angelo; of Leonardo, who died in the
arms of a king; of Cellini, who shot a prince from the walls of Saint
Angelo. Italy shall be great, shall monopolise the trade, the art, the
greatness of all creation!"
"A lucrative monopoly!" exclaimed the young man.
"Monopolies! There shall be no monopolies! The free artisan shall sell
what he can make and buy what he pleases. The priests shall be turned
out in chain gangs and build roads for our convenience, and the
superfluous females shall all be deported to the glorious colony of
Massowah! If I could but be absolute master of this country for a week
I could do much."
"I have no doubt of it," answered Gianbattista, with a quiet smile.
"I should think not," assented Marzio proudly; then catching sight of
the expression on the young man's face, he turned sharply upon him.
"You are mocking me, you good-for-nothing!" he cried angrily. "You
are laughing at me, at your master, you villain you wretch, you sickly
hound, you priest-ridden worm! It is intolerable! It is the first time you
have ever dared; do you think I am going to allow you to think for
yourself after all the pains I have taken to educate you, to teach you my
art, you ungrateful reptile?"
"If you were not such a great artist I would have left you long ago,"
answered the apprentice. "Besides, I believe in your principles. It is
your expression of them that makes me laugh now and then; I think you
go too far sometimes!"

"As if any one had ever gone far enough" exclaimed Marzio, somewhat
pacified, for his moods were very quick. "Since there are still men who
are richer than others, it is a sign that we have not gone to the end--to
the great end in which we believe. I am sure you believe in it too, Tista,
don't you?"
"Oh yes--in the end--certainly. Do not let us quarrel about the means,
Maestro Marzio. I must do another leaf before dinner."
"I will get in another cherub's nose," said his master, preparing to
relight his pipe for a whiff before going to work again. "Body of a dog,
these priests!" he grumbled, as he attacked the next angel on the ewer
with matchless dexterity and steadiness. A long pause followed the
animated discourse of the chiseller. Both men were intent upon their
work, alternately holding their breath for the delicate strokes, and
breathing more freely as the chisel reached the end of each tiny curve.
"I think you said a little while ago that I might marry Lucia," observed
Gianbattista, without looking up, "that is, if I would take her away!"
"And if you take her away," retorted the other, "where will you get
bread?"
"Where I get it now. I could live somewhere else and come here to
work; it seems simple enough."
"It seems simple, but it is not," replied Marzio. "Perhaps you could try
and get Paolo's commissions away from me, and then set up a studio
for yourself; but I doubt whether you could succeed. I am not old yet,
nor blind, nor shaky, thank God!"
"I did not catch the last words," said Gianbattista, hiding his smile over
his work.
"I said I was not old, nor broken down yet, thanks to my strength,"
growled the chiseller; "you will not steal my commissions yet awhile.
What is the matter with you to-day? You find fault with half I say, and
the other half you do not hear at all. You seem to have lost your head,

Tista. Be steady over those acanthus leaves; everybody thinks an
acanthus leaf is the easiest thing in the world, whereas it is one of the
most difficult before you get to figures. Most chisellers seem to copy
their acanthus leaves from the cabbage in their soup. They work as
though they had never seen the plant growing. When the Greeks began
to carve Corinthian capitals, they must have worked from real leaves,
as I taught you to model when you were a boy. Few