A WANDERER IN FLORENCE By E. V. Lucas Preface A sentence from a "Synthetical Guidebook" which is circulated in theFlorentine hotels will express what I want to say, at the thresholdof this volume, much better than could unaided words of mine. It runsthus: "The natural kindness, the high spirit, of the Florentine people, the wonderful masterpieces of art created by her great men, who inevery age have stood in the front of art and science, rivalize withthe gentle smile of her splendid sky to render Florence one of thefinest towns of beautiful Italy". These words, written, I feel sure, by a Florentine, and therefore "inspirated" (as he says elsewhere) bya patriotic feeling, are true; and it is my hope that the pages thatfollow will at once fortify their truth and lead others to test it. Like the synthetical author, I too have not thought it necessaryto provide "too many informations concerning art and history, " butthere will be found a few, practically unavoidable, in the gatheringtogether of which I have been indebted to many authors: notably Vasari, Symonds, Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Ruskin, Pater, and Baedeker. Amongmore recent books I would mention Herr Bode's "Florentine Sculptors ofthe Renaissance, " Mr. F. M. Hyett's "Florence, " Mr. E. L. S. Horsburgh's"Lorenzo the Magnificent" and "Savonarola, " Mr. Gerald S. Davies'"Michelangelo, " Mr. W. G. Waters' "Italian Sculptors, " and Col. Young's"The Medici". I have to thank very heartily a good English Florentine for theconstruction of the historical chart at the end of the volume. E. V. L. May, 1912 Contents PrefaceChapter I The Duomo I: Its ConstructionChapter II The Duomo II: Its AssociationsChapter III The Duomo III: A Ceremony and a MuseumChapter IV The Campanile and the BaptisteryChapter V The Riccardi Palace and the MediciChapter VI S. Lorenzo and MichelangeloChapter VII Or San Michele and the Palazzo VecchioChapter VIII The Uffizi I: The Building and the CollectorsChapter IX The Uffizi II: The First Six RoomsChapter X The Uffizi III: BotticelliChapter XI The Uffizi IV: Remaining RoomsChapter XII "Aèrial Fiesole"Chapter XIII The Badia and DanteChapter XIV The BargelloChapter XV S. CroceChapter XVI The AccademiaChapter XVII Two Monasteries and a ProcessionChapter XVIII S. MarcoChapter XIX The SS. Annunziata and the Spedale Degli InnocentiChapter XX The Cascine and the ArnoChapter XXI S. Maria NovellaChapter XXII The Piazza Vittorio Emmanuele to S. TrinitàChapter XXIII The PittiChapter XXIV English Poets in FlorenceChapter XXV The Carmine and San Miniato Historical Chart of Florence and Europe, 1296-1564 List of Illustrations In Colour The Duomo and Campanile, From the Via Pecori The Cloisters of San Lorenzo, Showing the Windows of the BibliotecaLaurenziana The Via Calzaioli, from the Baptistery, Showing the Bigallo and theTop of Or San Michele The Palazzo Vecchio The Loggia of the Palazzo Vecchio and the Via de' Leoni The Loggia de' Lanzi, the Duomo, and the Palazzo Vecchio, from thePortico of the Uffizi Fiesole, from the Hill under the Monastery The Badia and the Bargello, from the Piazza S. Firenze Interior of S. Croce The Ponte S. Trinità The Ponte Vecchio and Back of the Via de' Bardi S. Maria Novella and the Corner of the Loggia di S. Paolo The Via de' Vagellai, from the Piazza S. Jacopo Trafossi The Piazza Della Signoria on a Wet Friday Afternoon View of Florence at Evening, from the Piazzale Michelangelo Evening at the Piazzale Michelangelo, Looking West In Monotone A Cantoria. By Donatello, in the Museum of the Cathedral Cain and Abel and Abraham and Isaac. By Ghiberti, from his second Baptistery Doors The Procession of the Magi. By Benozzo Gozzoli, in the Palazzo Riccardi Tomb of Lorenzo de' Medici, Duke of Urbino. By Michelangelo, in the New Sacristy of S. Lorenzo Christ and S. Thomas. By Verrocchio, in a niche by Donatello and Michelozzo in the wall ofOr San Michele Putto with Dolphin. By Verrocchio, in the Palazzo Vecchio Madonna Adoring. Ascribed to Filippino Lippi, in the Uffizi The Adoration of the Magi. By Leonardo da Vinci, in the Uffizi Madonna and Child. By Luca Signorelli, in the Uffizi †The Birth of Venus. By Botticelli, in the Uffizi The Annunciation. By Botticelli, in the Uffizi San Giacomo. By Andrea del Sarto, in the Uffizi The Madonna del Cardellino. By Raphael, in the Uffizi The Madonna del Pozzo. By Franciabigio, in the Uffizi Monument to Count Ugo. By Mino da Fiesole, in the Badia David. By Donatello, in the BargelloBy Verrocchio, in the Bargello St. George. By Donatello, in the Bargello Madonna and Child. By Verrocchio, in the Bargello Madonna and Child. By Luca della Robbia, in the Bargello Bust of a Boy. By Luca or Andrea della Robbia, in the Bargello *Monument to Carlo Marzuppini. By Desiderio da Settignano, in S. Croce David. By Michelangelo, in the Accademia The Flight into Egypt. By Fra Angelico, in the Accademia The Adoration of the Shepherds. By Ghirlandaio, in the Accademia The Vision of S. Bernard. By Fra Bartolommeo, in the Accademia Virgin and Child Enthroned, with Saints. By Botticelli, in the Accademia Primavera. By Botticelli, in the Accademia The Coronation of the Virgin. By Fra Angelico, in the Convent of S. Marco The Annunciation. By Luca della Robbia, in the Spedale degli Innocenti The Birth of the Virgin. By Ghirlandaio, in S. Maria Novella The Madonna del Granduca. By Raphael, in the Pitti The Madonna della Sedia. By Raphael, in the Pitti The Concert. By Giorgione, in the Pitti Madonna Adoring. By Botticini, in the Pitti The Madonna and Children. By Perugino, in the Pitti *A Gipsy. By Boccaccio Boccaccini, in the Pitti All the illustrations are from photographs by G. Brogi, except thosemarked †, which are by Fratelli Alinari, and that marked *, which isby R. Anderson. A WANDERER IN FLORENCE CHAPTER I The Duomo I: Its Construction The City of the Miracle--The Marble Companions--Twilight andImmensity--Arnolfo di Cambio--Dante's seat--Ruskin's "Shepherd"--Giottothe various--Giotto's fun--The indomitable Brunelleschi--Makers ofFlorence--The present façade. All visitors to Florence make first for the Duomo. Let us do the same. The real name of the Duomo is the Cathedral of S. Maria del Fiore, orSt. Mary of the Flowers, the flower being the Florentine lily. Florenceherself is called the City of Flowers, and that, in the spring andsummer, is a happy enough description. But in the winter it fails. Aname appropriate to all the seasons would be the City of the Miracle, the miracle being the Renaissance. For though all over Italy tracesof the miracle are apparent, Florence was its very home and stillcan point to the greatest number of its achievements. Giotto (at thebeginning of this quickening movement) may at Assisi have been moreinspired as a painter; but here is his campanile and here are hisS. Maria Novella and S. Croce frescoes. Fra Angelico and Donatello(in the midst of it) were never more inspired than here, where theyworked and died. Michelangelo (at the end of it) may be more surprisingin the Vatican; but here are his wonderful Medici tombs. How it cameabout that between the years 1300 and 1500 Italian soil--and chieflyTuscan soil--threw up such masters, not only with the will and spiritto do what they did but with the power too, no one will ever be ableto explain. But there it is. In the history of the world two centurieswere suddenly given mysteriously to the activities of Italian men ofhumane genius and as suddenly the Divine gift was withdrawn. And to seethe very flower of these two centuries it is to Florence we must go. It is best to enter the Piazza del Duomo from the Via de' Martelli, the Via de' Cerretani, the Via Calzaioli, or the Via Pecori, becausethen one comes instantly upon the campanile too. The upper windows--sovery lovely--may have been visible at the end of the streets, withBrunelleschi's warm dome high in the sky beside them, but that wasnot to diminish the effect of the first sight of the whole. Duomo andcampanile make as fair a couple as ever builders brought together: theimmense comfortable church so solidly set upon the earth, and at itsside this delicate, slender marble creature, all gaiety and lightness, which as surely springs from roots within the earth. For one cannotbe long in Florence, looking at this tower every day and many times aday, both from near and far, without being perfectly certain that itgrows--and from a bulb, I think--and was never really built at all, whatever the records may aver. The interior of the Duomo is so unexpected that one has thefeeling of having entered, by some extraordinary chance, the wrongbuilding. Outside it was so garish with its coloured marbles, underthe southern sky; outside, too, one's ears were filled with all theshattering noises in which Florence is an adept; and then, one step, and behold nothing but vast and silent gloom. This surprise is the moreemphatic if one happens already to have been in the Baptistery. For theBaptistery is also coloured marble without, yet within it is colouredmarble and mosaic too: there is no disparity; whereas in the Duomothe walls have a Northern grey and the columns are brown. Austerityand immensity join forces. When all is said the chief merit of the Duomo is this immensity. Suchworks of art as it has are not very noticeable, or at any rate donot insist upon being seen; but in its vastness it overpowers. Greatas are some of the churches of Florence, I suppose three or four ofthem could be packed within this one. And mere size with a dim lightand a savour of incense is enough: it carries religion. No need formasses and chants or any ceremony whatever: the world is shut out, one is on terms with the infinite. A forest exercises the same spell;among mountains one feels it; but in such a cathedral as the Duomo onefeels it perhaps most of all, for it is the work of man, yet touchedwith mystery and wonder, and the knowledge that man is the author ofsuch a marvel adds to its greatness. The interior is so dim and strange as to be for a time sheer terraincognita, and to see a bat flitting from side to side, as I haveoften done even in the morning, is to receive no shock. In such atwilight land there must naturally be bats, one thinks. The darknessis due not to lack of windows but to time. The windows are there, but they have become opaque. None of the coloured ones in the aisleallows more than a filtration of light through it; there are only theplain, circular ones high up and those rich, coloured, circular onesunder the dome to do the work. In a little while, however, one's eyesnot only become accustomed to the twilight but are very grateful forit; and beginning to look inquiringly about, as they ever do in thiscity of beauty, they observe, just inside, an instant reminder of theantiseptic qualities of Italy. For by the first great pillar stands areceptacle for holy water, with a pretty and charming angelic figureupon it, which from its air of newness you would think was a recentgift to the cathedral by a grateful Florentine. It is six hundredyears old and perhaps was designed by Giotto himself. The emptiness of the Duomo is another of its charms. Nothing is allowedto impair the vista as you stand by the western entrance: the floorhas no chairs; the great columns rise from it in the gloom as if they, too, were rooted. The walls, too, are bare, save for a few tablets. The history of the building is briefly this. The first cathedral ofFlorence was the Baptistery, and S. John the Baptist is still thepatron saint of the city. Then in 1182 the cathedral was transferredto S. Reparata, which stood on part of the site of the Duomo, and in1294 the decision to rebuild S. Reparata magnificently was arrivedat, and Arnolfo di Cambio was instructed to draw up plans. Arnolfo, whom we see not only on a tablet in the left aisle, in relief, withhis plan, but also more than life size, seated beside Brunelleschion the Palazzo de' Canonici on the south side of the cathedral, facing the door, was then sixty-two and an architect of greatreputation. Born in 1232, he had studied under Niccolo Pisano, thesculptor of the famous pulpit at Pisa (now in the museum there), of that in the cathedral in Siena, and of the fountain at Perugia(in all of which Arnolfo probably helped), and the designer of manybuildings all over Italy. Arnolfo's own unaided sculpture may be seenat its best in the ciborium in S. Paolo Fuori le Mura in Rome; butit is chiefly as an architect that he is now known. He had alreadygiven Florence her extended walls and some of her most beautifulbuildings--the Or San Michele and the Badia--and simultaneously hedesigned S. Croce and the Palazzo Vecchio. Vasari has it that Arnolfowas assisted on the Duomo by Cimabue; but that is doubtful. The foundations were consecrated in 1296 and the first stone laidon September 8th, 1298, and no one was more interested in its earlyprogress than a young, grave lawyer who used to sit on a stone seaton the south side and watch the builders, little thinking how soonhe was to be driven from Florence for ever. This seat--the Sasso diDante--was still to be seen when Wordsworth visited Florence in 1837, for he wrote a sonnet in which he tells us that he in reverence satethere too, "and, for a moment, filled that empty Throne". But onecan do so no longer, for the place which it occupied has been builtover and only a slab in the wall with an inscription (on the housenext the Palazzo de' Canonici) marks the site. Arnolfo died in 1310, and thereupon there seems to have been acessation or slackening of work, due no doubt to the disturbedstate of the city, which was in the throes of costly wars andembroilments. Not until 1332 is there definite news of its progress, by which time the work had passed into the control of the Arte dellaLana; but in that year, although Florentine affairs were by no meansas flourishing as they should be, and a flood in the Arno had justdestroyed three or four of the bridges, a new architect was appointed, in the person of the most various and creative man in the historyof the Renaissance--none other than Giotto himself, who had alreadyreceived the commission to design the campanile which should standat the cathedral's side. Giotto was the son of a small farmer at Vespignano, near Florence. Hewas instructed in art by Cimabue, who discovered him drawing a lambon a stone while herding sheep, and took him as his pupil. Cimabue, of whom more is said, together with more of Giotto as a painter, in thechapter on the Accademia, had died in 1302, leaving Giotto far beyondall living artists, and Giotto, between the age of fifty and sixty, wasnow residing in Cimabue's house. He had already painted frescoes in theBargello (introducing his friend Dante), in S. Maria Novella, S. Croce, and elsewhere in Italy, particularly in the upper and lower churchesat Assisi, and at the Madonna dell' Arena chapel at Padua when Dantewas staying there during his exile. In those days no man was painteronly or architect only; an all-round knowledge of both arts and craftswas desired by every ambitious youth who was attracted by the wish tomake beautiful things, and Giotto was a universal master. It was notthen surprising that on his settling finally in Florence he should beinvited to design a campanile to stand for ever beside the cathedral, or that he should be appointed superintendent of the cathedral works. Giotto did not live to see even his tower completed--it is the unhappydestiny of architects to die too soon--but he was able during thefour years left him to find time for certain accessory decorations, of which more will be said later, and also to paint for S. Trinitàthe picture which we shall see in the Accademia, together with a fewother works, since perished, for the Badia and S. Giorgio. He died in1336 and was buried in the cathedral, as the tablet, with Benedettoda Maiano's bust of him, tells. He is also to be seen full length, in stone, in a niche at the Uffizi; but the figure is misleading, for if Vasari is to be trusted (and for my part I find it amusing totrust him as much as possible) the master was insignificant in size. Giotto has suffered, I think, in reputation, from Ruskin, who tookhim peculiarly under his wing, persistently called him "the Shepherd, "and made him appear as something between a Sunday-school superintendentand the Creator. The "Mornings in Florence" and "Giotto and his Worksin Padua" so insist upon the artist's holiness and conscious purposein all he did that his genial worldliness, shrewdness, and humour, asbrought out by Dante, Vasari, Sacchetti, and Boccaccio, are utterlyexcluded. What we see is an intense saint where really was a veryrobust man. Sacchetti's story of Giotto one day stumbling over apig that ran between his legs and remarking, "And serve me right;for I've made thousands with the help of pigs' bristles and neveronce given them even a cup of broth, " helps to adjust the balance;while to his friend Dante he made a reply, so witty that the poetcould not forget his admiration, in answer to his question how wasit that Giotto's pictures were so beautiful and his six children sougly; but I must leave the reader to hunt it for himself, as theseare modest pages. Better still, for its dry humour, was his answerto King Robert of Naples, who had commanded him to that city to paintsome Scriptural scenes, and, visiting the artist while he worked, ona very hot day, remarked, "Giotto, if I were you I should leave offpainting for a while". "Yes, " replied Giotto, "if I were you I should. " To Giotto happily we come again and again in this book. Enough atpresent to say that upon his death in 1336 he was buried, like Arnolfo, in the cathedral, where the tablet to his memory may be studied, and was succeeded as architect, both of the church and the tower, by his friend and assistant, Andrea Pisano, whose chief title tofame is his Baptistery doors and the carving, which we are soon toexamine, of the scenes round the base of the campanile. He, too, died--in 1348--before the tower was finished. Francesco Talenti was next called in, again to superintend bothbuildings, and not only to superintend but to extend the plans of thecathedral. Arnolfo and Giotto had both worked upon a smaller scale;Talenti determined the present floor dimensions. The revised façadewas the work of a committee of artists, among them Giotto's godsonand disciple, Taddeo Gaddi, then busy with the Ponte Vecchio, andAndrea Orcagna, whose tabernacle we shall see at Or San Michele. Andso the work went on until the main structure was complete in thethirteen-seventies. Another longish interval then came, in which nothing of note in theconstruction occurred, and the next interesting date is 1418, when acompetition for the design for the dome was announced, the work tobe given eventually to one Filippo Brunelleschi, then an ambitiousand nervously determined man, well known in Florence as an architect, of forty-one. Brunelleschi, who, again according to Vasari, was small, and therefore as different as may be from the figure which is seatedon the clergy house opposite the south door of the cathedral, watchinghis handiwork, was born in 1377, the son of a well-to-do Florentine ofgood family who wished to make him a notary. The boy, however, wantedto be an artist, and was therefore placed with a goldsmith, which wasin those days the natural course. As a youth he attempted everything, being of a pertinacious and inquiring mind, and he was also a greatdebater and student of Dante; and, taking to sculpture, he was oneof those who, as we shall see in a later chapter, competed for thecommission for the Baptistery gates. It was indeed his failure in thatcompetition which decided him to concentrate on architecture. Thathe was a fine sculptor his competitive design, now preserved in theBargello, and his Christ crucified in S. Maria Novella, prove; butin leading him to architecture the stars undoubtedly did rightly. It was in 1403 that the decision giving Ghiberti the Baptisterycommission was made, when Brunelleschi was twenty-six and Donatello, destined to be his life-long friend, was seventeen; and whenBrunelleschi decided to go to Rome for the study of his new branch ofindustry, architecture, Donatello went too. There they worked together, copying and measuring everything of beauty, Brunelleschi having alwaysbefore his mind the problem of how to place a dome upon the cathedralof his native city. But, having a shrewd knowledge of human natureand immense patience, he did not hasten to urge upon the authoritieshis claims as the heaven-born architect, but contented himself withsmaller works, and even assisted his rival Ghiberti with his gates, joining at that task Donatello and Luca della Robbia, and givinglessons in perspective to a youth who was to do more than any manafter Giotto to assure the great days of painting and become theexemplar of the finest masters--Masaccio. It was not until 1419 that Brunelleschi's persistence and beliefin his own powers satisfied the controllers of the cathedral worksthat he might perhaps be as good as his word and was the right manto build the dome; but at last he was able to begin. [1] For thestory of his difficulties, told minutely and probably with sufficientaccuracy, one must go to Vasari: it is well worth reading, and is alurid commentary on the suspicions and jealousies of the world. Thebuilding of the dome, without scaffolding, occupied fourteen years, Brunelleschi's device embracing two domes, one within the other, tied together with stone for material support and strength. It isbecause of this inner dome that the impression of its size, fromwithin the cathedral, can disappoint. Meanwhile, in spite of all thewear and tear of the work, the satisfying of incredulous busy-bodies, and the removal of such an incubus as Ghiberti, who because he was asuperb modeller of bronze reliefs was made for a while joint architectwith a salary that Brunelleschi felt should either be his own or noone's, the little man found time also to build beautiful churchesand cloisters all over Florence. He lived to see his dome finishedand the cathedral consecrated by Pope Eugenius IV in 1436, dying tenyears later. He was buried in the cathedral, and his adopted son andpupil, Buggiano, made the head of him on the tablet to his memory. Brunelleschi's lantern, the model of which from his own hand we shallsee in the museum of the cathedral, was not placed on the dome until1462. The copper ball above it was the work of Verrocchio. In 1912there are still wanting many yards of stone border to the dome. Of the man himself we know little, except that he was of irontenacity and lived for his work. Vasari calls him witty, but givesa not good example of his wit; he seems to have been philanthropicand a patron of poor artists, and he grieved deeply at the untimelydeath of Masaccio, who painted him in one of the Carmine frescoes, together with Donatello and other Florentines. As one walks about Florence, visiting this church and that, andpeering into cool cloisters, one's mind is always intent upon thesculpture or paintings that may be preserved there for the delectationof the eye. The tendency is to think little of the architect who madethe buildings where they are treasured. Asked to name the greatestmakers of this beautiful Florence, the ordinary visitor wouldsay Michelangelo, Giotto, Raphael, Donatello, the della Robbias, Ghirlandaio, and Andrea del Sarto: all before Brunelleschi, even ifhe named him at all. But this is wrong. Not even Michelangelo didso much for Florence as he. Michelangelo was no doubt the greatestindividualist in the whole history of art, and everything that he didgrips the memory in a vice; but Florence without Michelangelo wouldstill be very nearly Florence, whereas Florence without Brunelleschiis unthinkable. No dome to the cathedral, first of all; no S. Lorenzochurch or cloisters; no S. Croce cloisters or Pazzi chapel; no Badiaof Fiesole. Honour where honour is due. We should be singing thepraises of Filippo Brunelleschi in every quarter of the city. After Brunelleschi the chief architect of the cathedral was Giuliano daMaiano, the artist of the beautiful intarsia woodwork in the sacristy, and the uncle of Benedetto da Maiano who made the S. Croce pulpit. The present façade is the work of the architect Emilio de Fabris, whose tablet is to be seen on the left wall. It was finished in 1887, five hundred and more years after the abandonment of Arnolfo's originaldesign and three hundred and more years after the destruction of thesecond one, begun in 1357 and demolished in 1587. Of Arnolfo's façadethe primitive seated statue of Boniface VIII (or John XXII) just insidethe cathedral is, with a bishop in one of the sacristies, the onlyremnant; while of the second façade, for which Donatello and otherearly Renaissance sculptors worked, the giant S. John the Evangelist, in the left aisle, is perhaps the most important relic. Other statuesin the cathedral were also there, while the central figure--the Madonnawith enamel eyes--may be seen in the cathedral museum. Although notgreat, the group of the Madonna and Child now over the central doorof the Duomo has much charm and benignancy. The present façade, although attractive as a mass of light, is notreally good. Its patterns are trivial, its paintings and statuescommonplace; and I personally have the feeling that it would havebeen more fitting had Giotto's marble been supplied rather witha contrast than an imitation. As it is, it is not till Giotto'stower soars above the façade that one can rightly (from the front)appreciate its roseate delicacy, so strong is this rival. CHAPTER II The Duomo II: Its Associations Dante's picture--Sir John Hawkwood--Ancestor and Descendant--The PazziConspiracy--Squeamish Montesecco--Giuliano de' Medici dies--Lorenzo'sescape--Vengeance on the Pazzi--Botticelli's cartoon--HighMass--Luca della Robbia--Michelangelo nearing the end--The Miraclesof Zenobius--East and West meet in splendour--Marsilio Ficino andthe New Learning--Beautiful glass. Of the four men most concerned in the structure of the Duomo I havealready spoken. There are other men held in memory there, and certainpaintings and statues, of which I wish to speak now. The picture of Dante in the left aisle was painted by command ofthe Republic in 1465, one hundred and sixty-three years after hisbanishment from the city. Lectures on Dante were frequently deliveredin the churches of Florence during the fourteenth and fifteenthcenturies, and it was interesting for those attending them to havea portrait on the wall. This picture was painted by Domenico diMichelino, the portrait of Dante being prepared for him by AlessioBaldovinetti, who probably took it from Giotto's fresco in the chapelof the Podestá at the Bargello. In this picture Dante stands betweenthe Inferno and a concentrated Florence in which portions of theDuomo, the Signoria, the Badia, the Bargello, and Or San Michele arevisible. Behind him is Paradise. In his hand is the "Divine Comedy". Isay no more of the poet here, because a large part of the chapter onthe Badia is given to him. Near the Dante picture in the left aisle are two Donatellos--themassive S. John the Evangelist, seated, who might have given ideasto Michelangelo for his Moses a century and more later; and, nearerthe door, between the tablets to De Fabris and Squarciaparello, theso-called Poggio Bracciolini, a witty Italian statesman and Humanistand friend of the Medici, who, however, since he was much younger thanthis figure at the time of its exhibition, and is not known to havevisited Florence till later, probably did not sit for it. But it isa powerful and very natural work, although its author never intendedit to stand on any floor, even of so dim a cathedral as this. TheS. John, I may say, was brought from the old façade--not Arnolfo's, but the committee's façade--where it had a niche about ten feet fromthe ground. The Poggio was also on this façade, but higher. It wasPoggio's son, Jacopo, who took part in the Pazzi Conspiracy, of whichwe are about to read, and was very properly hanged for it. Of the two pictures on the entrance wall, so high as to be imperfectlyseen, that on the right as you face it has peculiar interest toEnglish visitors, for (painted by Paolo Uccello, whose great battlepiece enriches our National Gallery) it represents Sir John Hawkwood, an English free-lance and head of the famous White Company, whoafter some successful raids on Papal territory in Provence, put hissword, his military genius, and his bravoes at the service of thehighest bidder among the warlike cities and provinces of Italy, and, eventually passing wholly into the employment of Florence (afterharrying her for other pay-masters for some years), delivered hervery signally from her enemies in 1392. Hawkwood was an Essex man, the son of a tanner at Hinckford, and was born there early in thefourteenth century. He seems to have reached France as an archer underEdward III, and to have remained a free-booter, passing on to Italy, about 1362, to engage joyously in as much fighting as any Englishcommander can ever have had, for some thirty years, with very goodpay for it. Although, by all accounts, a very Salomon Brazenhead, Hawkwood had enough dignity to be appointed English Ambassador to Rome, and later to Florence, which he made his home, and where he died in1394. He was buried in the Duomo, on the north side of the choir, andwas to have reposed beneath a sumptuous monument made under his owninstructions, with frescoes by Taddeo Gaddi and Giuliano d'Arrigo;but something intervened, and Uccello's fresco was used instead, and this, some sixty years ago, was transferred to canvas and movedto the position in which it now is seen. Hawkwood's life, briskly told by a full-blooded hand, would make a finebook. One pleasant story at least is related of him, that on beingbeset by some begging friars who prefaced their mendicancy with thewords, "God give you peace, " he answered, "God take away your alms";and, on their protesting, reminded them that such peace was the lastthing he required, since should their pious wish come true he woulddie of hunger. One of the daughters of this fire-eater married JohnShelley, and thus became an ancestress of Shelley the poet, who, as it chances, also found a home for a while in this city, almostwithin hailing distance of his ancestor's tomb and portrait, and herewrote not only his "Ode to the West Wind, " but his caustic satire, "Peter Bell the Third". Hawkwood's name is steeped sufficiently in carnage; but we get to thescene of bloodshed in reality as we approach the choir, for it washere that Giuliano de' Medici was assassinated, as he attended HighMass, on April 26th, 1478, with the connivance, if not actually at theinstigation, of Christ's Vicar himself, Pope Sixtus IV. Florentinehistory is so eventful and so tortuous that beyond the bare outlinegiven in chapter V, I shall make in these pages but little effort tofollow it, assuming a certain amount of knowledge on the part of thereader; but it must be stated here that periodical revolts againstthe power and prestige of the Medici often occurred, and none wasmore desperate than that of the Pazzi family in 1478, acting withthe support of the Pope behind all and with the co-operation ofGirolamo Riario, nephew of the Pope, and Salviati, Archbishop ofPisa. The Pazzi, who were not only opposed to the temporal powerof the Medici, but were their rivals in business--both familiesbeing bankers--wished to rid Florence of Lorenzo and Giuliano inorder to be greater both civically and financially. Girolamo wishedthe removal of Lorenzo and Giuliano in order that hostility to hisplans for adding Forli and Faenza to the territory of Imola, whichthe Pope had successfully won for him against Lorenzo's opposition, might disappear. The Pope had various political reasons for wishingLorenzo's and Giuliano's death and bringing Florence, always headstrongand dangerous, to heel. While as for Salviati, it was sufficient thathe was Archbishop of Pisa, Florence's ancient rival and foe; but hewas a thoroughly bad lot anyway. Assassination also was in the air, for Galeazzo Maria Sforza of Milan had been stabbed in church in 1476, thus to some extent paving the way for this murder, since Lorenzoand Sforza, when acting together, had been practically unassailable. In 1478 Lorenzo was twenty-nine, Giuliano twenty-five. Lorenzo hadbeen at the head of Florentine affairs for nine years and he wassteadily growing in strength and popularity. Hence it was now or never. The conspirators' first idea was to kill the brothers at a banquetwhich Lorenzo was to give to the great-nephew of the Pope, theyouthful Cardinal Raffaello Riario, who promised to be an amenablecatspaw. Giuliano, however, having hurt his leg, was not well enough tobe present, but as he would attend High Mass, the conspirators decidedto act then. That is to say, it was then, in the cathedral, that thedeath of the Medici brothers was to be effected; meanwhile anotherdetachment of conspirators under Salviati was to rise simultaneously tocapture the Signoria, while the armed men of the party who were outsideand inside the walls would begin their attacks on the populace. Thus, at the same moment Medici and city would fall. Such was the plan. The actual assassins were Francesco de' Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini, who were nominally friends of the Medici (Francesco's brother Guglielmohaving married Bianca de' Medici, Lorenzo's sister), and two priestsnamed Maffeo da Volterra and Stefano da Bagnone. A professional bravonamed Montesecco was to have killed Lorenzo, but refused on learningthat the scene of the murder was to be a church. At that, he said, he drew the line: murder anywhere else he could perform cheerfully, but in a sacred building it was too much to ask. He therefore didnothing, but, subsequently confessing, made the guilt of all hisassociates doubly certain. When High Mass began it was found that Giuliano was not present, and Francesco de' Pazzi and Bandini were sent to persuade him tocome--a Judas-like errand indeed. On the way back, it is said, oneof them affectionately placed his arm round Giuliano--to see if hewore a shirt of mail--remarking, to cover the action, that he wasgetting fat. On his arrival, Giuliano took his place at the northside of the circular choir, near the door which leads to the Via de'Servi, while Lorenzo stood at the opposite side. At the given signalBandini and Pazzi were to stab Giuliano and the two priests were tostab Lorenzo. The signal was the breaking of the Eucharistic wafer, and at this solemn moment Giuliano was instantly killed, with one stabin the heart and nineteen elsewhere, Francesco so overdoing his attackthat he severely wounded himself too; but Lorenzo was in time to seethe beginning of the assault, and, making a movement to escape, heprevented the priest from doing aught but inflict a gash in his neck, and, springing away, dashed behind the altar to the old sacristy, where certain of his friends who followed him banged the heavy bronzedoors on the pursuing foe. Those in the cathedral, mean-while, were ina state of hysterical alarm; the youthful cardinal was hurried intothe new sacristy; Guglielmo de' Pazzi bellowed forth his innocencein loud tones; and his murderous brother and Bandini got off. Order being restored, Lorenzo was led by a strong bodyguard tothe Palazzo Medici, where he appeared at a window to convince themomentarily increasing crowd that he was still living. Meanwhilethings were going not much more satisfactorily for the Pazzi atthe Palazzo Vecchio, where, according to the plan, the gonfalonier, Cesare Petrucci, was to be either killed or secured. The ArchbishopSalviati, who was to effect this, managed his interview so clumsilythat Petrucci suspected something, those being suspicious times, and, instead of submitting to capture, himself turned the key on hisvisitors. The Pazzi faction in the city, meanwhile, hoping that allhad gone well in the Palazzo Vecchio, as well as in the cathedral(as they thought), were running through the streets calling "Viva laLibertà!" to be met with counter cries of "Palle! palle!"--the pallebeing the balls on the Medici escutcheon, still to be seen all overFlorence and its vicinity and on every curtain in the Uffizi. The truth gradually spreading, the city then rose for the Medici andjustice began to be done. The Archbishop was handed at once, just ashe was, from a window of the Palazzo Vecchio. Francesco de' Pazzi, who had got home to bed, was dragged to the Palazzo and hanged too. Themob meanwhile were not idle, and most of the Pazzi were accounted for, together with many followers--although Lorenzo publicly implored themto be merciful. Poliziano, the scholar-poet and friend of Lorenzo, has left a vivid account of the day. With his own eyes he saw thehanging Salviati, in his last throes, bite the hanging Francesco dePazzi. Old Jacopo succeeded in escaping, but not for long, and a dayor so later he too was hanged. Bandini got as far as Constantinople, but was brought back in chains and hanged. The two priests hid inthe Benedictine abbey in the city and for a while evaded search, but being found they were torn to pieces by the crowd. Montesecco, having confessed, was beheaded in the courtyard of the Bargello. The hanging of the chief conspirators was kept in the minds of theshort-memoried Florentines by a representation outside the PalazzoVecchio, by none other than the wistful, spiritual Botticelli; whilethree effigies, life size, of Lorenzo--one of them with his bandagedneck--were made by Verrocchio in coloured wax and set up in placeswhere prayers might be offered. Commemorative medals which may beseen in the Bargello, were also struck, and the family of Pazzi wasbanished and its name removed by decree from the city's archives. PoorGiuliano, who was generally beloved for his charm and youthful spirits, was buried at S. Lorenzo in great state. I have often attended High Mass in this Duomo choir--the theatre ofthe Pazzi tragedy--but never without thinking of that scene. Luca della Robbia's doors to the new sacristy, which gave the youngcardinal his safety, had been finished only eleven years. Donatello wasto have designed them, but his work at Padua was too pressing. Thecommission was then given to Michelozzo, Donatello's partner, and to Luca della Robbia, but it seems likely that Luca did nearlyall. The doors are in very high relief, thus differing absolutelyfrom Donatello's at S. Lorenzo, which are in very low. Luca's workhere is sweet and mild rather than strong, and the panels derivetheir principal charm from the angels, who, in pairs, attend thesaints. Above the door was placed, at the time of Lorenzo's escape, the beautiful cantoria, also by Luca, which is now in the museum ofthe cathedral, while above the door of the old sacristy was Donatello'scantoria. Commonplace new ones now take their place. In the semicircleover each door is a coloured relief by Luca: that over the bronze doorsbeing the "Resurrection, " and the other the "Ascension"; and they areinteresting not only for their beauty but as being the earliest-knownexamples in Luca's newly-discovered glazed terra-cotta medium, which was to do so much in the hands of himself, his nephew Andrea, and his followers, to make Florence still lovelier and the legendof the Virgin Mary still sweeter. But of the della Robbias and theirexquisite genius I shall say more later, when we come to the Bargello. As different as would be possible to imagine is the genius of thatyounger sculptor, the author of the Pietà at the back of the altar, near where we now stand, who, when Luca finished these bronze doors, in 1467, was not yet born--Michelangelo Buonarroti. This group, whichis unfinished, is the last the old and weary Titan ever worked at, and it was meant to be part of his own tomb. Vasari, to whose "Livesof the Painters" we shall be indebted, as this book proceeds, for somuch good human nature, and who speaks of Michelangelo with peculiarauthority, since he was his friend, pupil, and correspondent, tells usthat once when he went to see the sculptor in Rome, near the end, hefound him at work upon this Pietà, but the sculptor was so dissatisfiedwith one portion that he let his lantern fall in order that Vasarimight not see it, saying: "I am so old that death frequently dragsat my mantle to take me, and one day my person will fall like thislantern". The Pietà is still in deep gloom, as the master would haveliked, but enough is revealed to prove its pathos and its power. In the east end of the nave is the chapel of S. Zenobius, containing abronze reliquary by Ghiberti, with scenes upon it from the life of thissaint, so important in Florentine religious history. It is, however, very hard to see, and should be illuminated. Zenobius was born atFlorence in the reign of Constantine the Great, when Christianitywas by no means the prevailing religion of the city, although theway had been paved by various martyrs. After studying philosophyand preaching with much acceptance, Zenobius was summoned to Romeby Pope Damasus. On the Pope's death he became Bishop of Florence, and did much, says Butler, to "extirpate the kingdom of Satan". Thesaint lived in the ancient tower which still stands--one of the fewsurvivors of Florence's hundreds of towers--at the corner of the ViaPor S. Maria (which leads from the Mercato Nuovo to the Ponte Vecchio)and the Via Lambertesca. It is called the Torre de' Girolami, andon S. Zenobius' day--May 25th--is decorated with flowers; and sincenever are so many flowers in the city of flowers as at that time, itis a sight to see. The remains of the saint were moved to the Duomo, although it had not then its dome, from S. Lorenzo, in 1330, and thesimple column in the centre of the road opposite Ghiberti's firstBaptistery doors was erected to mark the event, since on that veryspot, it is said, stood a dead elm tree which, when the bier of thesaint chanced to touch it, immediately sprang to life again and burstinto leaf; even, the enthusiastic chronicler adds, into flower. Theresult was that the tree was cut completely to pieces by relic hunters, but the column by the Baptistery, the work of Brunelleschi (erected onthe site of an earlier one), fortunately remains as evidence of themiracle. Ghiberti, however, did not choose this miracle but anotherfor representation; for not only did Zenobius dead restore animation, but while he was himself living he resuscitated two boys. The one was award of his own; the second was an ordinary Florentine, for whom thesame modest boon was craved by his sorrowing parents. It is one ofthese scenes of resuscitation which Ghiberti has designed in bronze, while Ridolfo Ghirlandaio painted it in a picture in the Uffizi. Weshall see S. Zenobius again in the fresco by Ridolfo's father, thegreat Ghirlandaio, in the Palazzo Vecchio; while the portrait on thefirst pillar of the left aisle, as one enters the cathedral is ofZenobius too. The date of the Pazzi Conspiracy was 1478. A few years later thesame building witnessed the extraordinary effects of Savonarola'soratory, when such was the terrible picture he drew of the fate ofunregenerate sinners that his listeners' hair was said actually torise with fright. Savonarola came towards the end of the Renaissance, to give it its death-blow. By contrast there is a tablet on the rightwall of the cathedral in honour of one who did much to bring about thepaganism and sophistication against which the impassioned reformeruttered his fiercest denunciations: Marsilio Ficino (1433-1491), the neo-Platonist protegé of Cosimo de' Medici, and friend bothof Piero de' Medici and Lorenzo. To explain Marsilio's influenceit is necessary to recede a little into history. In 1439 Cosimo de'Medici succeeded in transferring the scene of the Great Council of theChurch to Florence. At this conference representatives of the WesternChurch, centred in Rome, met those of the Eastern Church, centredin Constantinople, which was still Christian, for the purpose ofdiscussing various matters, not the least of which was the protectionof the Eastern Church against the Infidel. Not only was Constantinoplecontinually threatened by the Turks, and in need of arms as wellas sympathy, but the two branches of the Church were at enmity overa number of points. It was as much to heal these differences as toseek temporal aid that the Emperor John Palaeologus, the Patriarchof Constantinople, and a vast concourse of nobles, priests, andGreek scholars, arrived in Italy, and, after sojourning at Veniceand Ferrara, moved on to Florence at the invitation of Cosimo. TheEmperor resided in the Peruzzi palace, now no more, near S. Croce;the Patriarch of Constantinople lodged (and as it chanced, died, forhe was very old) at the Ferrantini palace, now the Casa Vernaccia, in the Borgo Pinti; while Pope Eugenius was at the convent attachedto S. Maria Novella. The meetings of the Council were held where wenow stand--in the cathedral, whose dome had just been placed upon itall ready for them. The Council failed in its purpose, and, as we know, Constantinoplewas lost some years later, and the great empire of which JohnPalaeologus was the last ruler ceased to be. That, however, at themoment is beside the mark. The interesting thing to us is that amongthe scholars who came from Constantinople, bringing with them numbersof manuscripts and systems of thought wholly new to the Florentines, was one Georgius Gemisthos, a Greek philosopher of much personalcharm and comeliness, who talked a bland and beautiful Platonism thatwas extremely alluring not only to his youthful listeners but alsoto Cosimo himself. Gemisthos was, however, a Greek, and Cosimo wastoo busy a man in a city of enemies, or at any rate of the envious, to be able to do much more than extend his patronage to the old manand despatch emissaries to the East for more and more manuscripts;but discerning the allurements of the new gospel, Cosimo directeda Florentine enthusiast who knew Greek to spread the serene creedamong his friends, who were all ripe for it, and this enthusiast wasnone other than a youthful scholar by name Marsilio Ficino, connectedwith S. Lorenzo, Cosimo's family church, and the son of Cosimo's ownphysician. To the young and ardent Marsilio, Plato became a god andGemisthos not less than divine for bringing the tidings. He kept a lampalways burning before Plato's bust, and later founded the PlatonicAcademy, at which Plato's works were discussed, orations delivered, and new dialogues exchanged, between such keen minds as Marsilio, Pulci, Landini, Giovanni Cavalcanti, Leon Battista Alberti, thearchitect and scholar, Pico dell a Mirandola, the precocious disputantand aristocratic mystic, Poliziano, the tutor of Lorenzo's sons, andLorenzo the Magnificent himself. It was thus from the Greek invasionof Florence that proceeded the stream of culture which is known asHumanism, and which, no doubt, in time, was so largely concerned inbringing about that indifference to spiritual things which, leadingto general laxity and indulgence, filled Savonarola with despair. I am not concerned to enter deeply into the subject of theRenaissance. But this must be said--that the new painting andsculpture, particularly the painting of Masaccio and the sculptureof Donatello, had shown the world that the human being could be madethe measure of the Divine. The Madonna and Christ had been relatedto life. The new learning, by leading these keen Tuscan intellects, so eager for reasonableness, to the Greek philosophers who were sowise and so calm without any of the consolations of Christianity, naturally set them wondering if there were not a religion of Humanitythat was perhaps a finer thing than the religion that required all themachinery and intrigue of Rome. And when, as the knowledge of Greekspread and the minute examination of documents ensued, it was foundthat Rome had not disdained forgery to gain her ends, a blow was struckagainst the Church from which it never recovered;--and how much of thiswas due to this Florentine Marsilio, sitting at the feet of the GreekGemisthos, who came to Florence at the invitation of Cosimo de' Medici! The cathedral glass, as I say, is mostly overladen with grime; but thecircular windows in the dome seem to be magnificent in design. Theyare attributed to Ghiberti and Donatello, and are lovely in colour. Thegreens in particular are very striking. But the jewel of these circularwindows of Florence is that by Ghiberti on the west wall of S. Croce. And here I leave the Duomo, with the counsel to visitors to Florenceto make a point of entering it every day--not, as so many Florentinesdo, in order to make a short cut from the Via Calzaioli to the Via de'Servi, and vice versâ, but to gather its spirit. It is different everyhour in the day, and every hour the light enters it with new beauty. CHAPTER III The Duomo III: A Ceremony and a Museum The Scoppio del Carro--The Pazzi beneficent--Holy Saturday'sprogramme--April 6th, 1912--The flying palle--The nervouspyrotechnist--The influence of noon--A little sister of theDuomo--Donatello's cantoria--Luca della Robbia's cantoria. In the last chapter we saw the Pazzi family as very black sheep, although there are plenty of students of Florentine history whohold that any attempt to rid Florence of the Medici was laudable. Inthis chapter we see them in a kindlier situation as benefactors tothe city. For it happened that when Pazzo de' Pazzi, a founder ofthe house, was in the Holy Land during the First Crusade, it was hisproud lot to set the Christian banner on the walls of Jerusalem, and, as a reward, Godfrey of Boulogne gave him some flints from the HolySepulchre. These he brought to Florence, and they are now preservedat SS. Apostoli, the little church in the Piazza del Limbo, off theBorgo SS. Apostoli, and every year the flints are used to kindlethe fire needed for the right preservation of Easter Day. Graduallythe ceremony enlarged until it became a spectacle indeed, which thePazzi family for centuries controlled. After the Pazzi conspiracythey lost it and the Signoria took it over; but, on being pardoned, the Pazzi again resumed. The Carro is a car containing explosives, and the Scoppio is itsexplosion. This car, after being drawn in procession through thestreets by white oxen, is ignited by the sacred fire borne to it bya mechanical dove liberated at the high altar of the Duomo, and withits explosion Easter begins. There is still a Pazzi fund towards theexpenses, but a few years ago the city became responsible for thewhole proceedings, and the ceremony as it is now given, under civicmanagement, known as the Scoppio del Cairo, is that which I saw onHoly Saturday last and am about to describe. First, however, let me state what had happened before the proceedingsopened in the Piazza del Duomo. At six o'clock mass began atSS. Apostoli, lasting for more than two hours. At its close thecelebrant was handed a plate on which were the sacred flints, and thesehe struck with a steel in view of the congregation, thus igniting ataper. The candle, in an ancient copper porta fuoco surmounted by adove, was then lighted, and the procession of priests started off forthe cathedral with their precious flame, escorted by a civic guardand various standard bearers. Their route was the Piazza del Limbo, along the Borgo SS. Apostoli to the Via Por S. Maria and throughthe Vacchereccia to the Piazza della Signoria, the Via Condotta, theVia del Proconsolo, to the Duomo, through whose central doors theypassed, depositing the sacred burden at the high altar. I should addthat anyone on the route in charge of a street shrine had the rightto stop the procession in order to take a light from it; while atSS. Apostoli women congregated with tapers and lanterns in the hopeof getting these kindled from the sacred flame, in order to washtheir babies or cook their food in water heated with the fire. Meanwhile at seven o'clock the four oxen, which are kept in theCascine all the year round and do no other work, had been harnessed tothe car and had drawn it to the Piazza del Duomo, which was reachedabout nine. The oxen were then tethered by the Pisano doors of theBaptistery until needed again. After some haggling on the night before, I had secured a seat on abalcony facing Ghiberti's first Baptistery doors, for eleven lire, andto this place I went at half-past ten. The piazza was then filling up, and at a quarter to eleven the trams running between the Cathedral andthe Baptistery were stopped. In this space was the car. The presentone, which dates from 1622, is more like a catafalque, and unless onesees it in motion, with the massive white oxen pulling it, one cannotbelieve in it as a vehicle at all. It is some thirty feet high, allblack, with trumpery coloured-paper festoons (concealing fireworks)upon it: trumpery as only the Roman Catholic Church can contrive. Itstood in front of the Duomo some four yards from the Baptistery gatesin a line with the Duomo's central doors and the high altar. Thedoors were open, seats being placed on each side of the aisle thewhole distance, and people making a solid avenue. Down this avenuewere to come the clergy, and above it was to be stretched the lineon which the dove was to travel from the altar, with the Pazzi fire, to ignite the car. The space in front of the cathedral was cleared at about eleven, and cocked hats and red-striped trousers then became the mostnoticeable feature. The crowd was jolly and perhaps a little cynical;picture-postcard hawkers made most of the noise, and for some reasonor other a forlorn peasant took this opportunity to offer for sale twoequally forlorn hedgehogs. Each moment the concourse increased, for itis a fateful day and every one wants to know the issue: because, yousee, if the dove runs true, lights the car, and returns, as a good doveshould, to the altar ark, there will be a prosperous vintage and thepyrotechnist who controls the sacred bird's movements will receive hiswages. But if the dove runs defectively and there is any hitch, everyone is dismayed, for the harvest will be bad and the pyrotechnist willreceive nothing. Once he was imprisoned when things went astray--andquite right too--but the Florentines have grown more lenient. At about a quarter past eleven a procession of clergy emerged from theDuomo and crossed the space to the Baptistery. First, boys and youthsin surplices. Then some scarlet hoods, waddling. Then purple hoods, and other colours, a little paunchier, waddling more, and lastly thearchbishop, very sumptuous. All having disappeared into the Baptistery, through Ghiberti's second gates, which I never saw opened before, thedove's wire was stretched and fastened, a matter needing much care;and the crowds began to surge. The cocked hats and officers had thespace all to themselves, with the car, the firemen, the pyrotechnistand the few privileged and very self-conscious civilians who wereallowed inside. A curious incident, which many years ago might have been magnifiedinto a portent, occurred while the ecclesiastics were in the Artistry. Some one either bought and liberated several air balloons, or thestring holding them was surreptitiously cut; but however it happened, the balls escaped and suddenly the crowd sent up a triumphant yell. Atfirst I could see no reason for it, the Baptistery intervening, but then the balls swam into our ken and steadily floated overthe cathedral out of sight amid tremendous satisfaction. And theportent? Well, as they moved against the blue sky they formedthemselves into precisely the pattern of the palle on the Mediciescutcheon. That is all. But think what that would have meant in thefifteenth century; the nods and frowns it would have occasioned; thedispersal of the Medici, the loss of power, and all the rest of it, that it would have presaged! At about twenty to twelve the ecclesiastics returned and wereswallowed up by the Duomo, and then excitement began to be acute. Thepyrotechnist was not free from it; he fussed about nervously; he testedeverything again and again; he crawled under the car and out of it;he talked to officials; he inspected and re-inspected. Photographersbegan to adjust their distances; the detached men in bowlers lookedat their watches; the cocked hats drew nearer to the Duomo door. Andthen we heard a tearing noise. All eyes were turned to the great door, and out rushed the dove emitting a wake of sparks, entered the carand was out again on its homeward journey before one realized what hadhappened. And then the explosions began, and the bells--silent sinceThursday--broke out. How many explosions there were I do not know;but they seemed to go on for ten minutes. This is a great moment not only for the spectator but for all Florence, for in myriad rooms mothers have been waiting, with their babieson their knees, for the first clang of the belfries, because if achild's eyes are washed then it is unlikely ever to have weak sight, while if a baby takes its first steps to this accompaniment its legswill not be bowed. At the last explosion the pyrotechnist, now a calm man once moreand a proud one, approached the car, the firemen poured water onsmouldering parts, and the work of clearing up began. Then camethe patient oxen, their horns and hooves gilt, and great masses offlowers on their heads, and red cloths with the lily of Florenceon it over their backs--much to be regretted since they obliteratedtheir beautiful white skins--and slowly the car lumbered off, and, the cocked hats relenting, the crowd poured after it and the Scoppiodel Carro was over. The Duomo has a little sister in the shape of the Museo di SantaMaria del Fiore, or the Museo dell' Opera del Duomo, situated in thePiazza opposite the apse; and we should go there now. This museum, which is at once the smallest and, with the exception of the NaturalHistory Museum, the cheapest of the Florentine museums, for itcosts but half a lira, is notable for containing the two cantorie, or singing galleries, made for the cathedral, one by Donatello andone by Luca della Robbia. A cantoria by Donatello we shall soon see inits place in S. Lorenzo; but that, beautiful as it is, cannot comparewith this one, with its procession of merry, dancing children, itsmassiveness and grace, its joyous ebullitions of gold mosaic and blueenamel. Both the cantorie--Donatello's, begun in 1433 and finishedin 1439, and Luca's, begun in 1431 and finished in 1438--fulfilledtheir melodious functions in the Duomo until 1688, when they wereruthlessly cleared away to make room for large wooden balconies tobe used in connexion with the nuptials of Ferdinand de' Medici andthe Princess Violante of Bavaria. In the year 1688 taste was at a lowebb, and no one thought the deposed cantorie even worth preservation, so that they were broken up and occasionally levied upon for cornicesand so forth. The fragments were collected and taken to the Bargelloin the middle of the last century, and in 1883 Signer del Moro, thethen architect of the Duomo (whose bust is in the courtyard of thismuseum), reconstructed them to the best of his ability in their presentsituation. It has to be remembered not only that, with the exceptionof the figures, the galleries are not as their artists made them, lacking many beautiful accessories, but that, as Vasari tells us, Donatello deliberately designed his for a dim light. None the less, they remain two of the most delightful works of the Renaissance andtwo of the rarest treasures of Florence. The dancing boys behind the small pillars with their gold chequering, the brackets, and the urn of the cornice over the second pairof pillars from the right, are all that remain of Donatello's ownhandiwork. All else is new and conjectural. It is supposed that bronzeheads of lions filled the two circular spaces between the bracketsin the middle. But although the loss of the work as a whole is to beregretted, the dancing boys remain, to be for ever an inspiration anda pleasure. The Luca della Robbia cantoria opposite is not quite sotriumphant a masterpiece, but from the point of view of suitability itis perhaps better. We can believe that Luca's children hymn the gloryof the Lord, as indeed the inscription makes them, whereas Donatello'sromp with a gladness that might easily be purely pagan. Luca's designis more formal, more conventional; Donatello's is rich and free andfluid with personality. The two end panels of Luca's are supplied inthe cantoria by casts; the originals are on the wall below and maybe carefully studied. The animation and fervour of these choristersare unforgettable. It is well, while enjoying Donatello's work, to remember that Pratois only half an hour from Florence, and that there may be seenthe open-air pulpit, built on the corner of the cathedral, whichDonatello, with Michelozzo, his friend and colleague, made at thesame time that the cantoria was in progress, and which in its reliefof happy children is very similar, although not, I think, quite soremarkable. It lacks also the peculiarly naturalistic effect gainedin the cantoria by setting the dancing boys behind the pillars, whichundoubtedly, as comparison with the Luca shows, assists realism. Therow of pillars attracts the eye first and the boys are thus throwninto a background which almost moves. Although the cantorie dominate the museum they must not be allowed toovershadow all else. A marble relief of the Madonna and Children byAgostino di Duccio (1418-1481) must be sought for: it is No. 77 andthe children are the merriest in Florence. Another memorable Madonnaand Child is No. 94, by Pagno di Lapo Portigiani (1406-1470), who hasinterest for us in this place as being one of Donatello's assistants, very possibly on this very cantoria, and almost certainly on the Pratopulpit. Everything here, it must be remembered, has some associationwith the Duomo and was brought here for careful preservation and thatwhoever has fifty centimes might take pleasure in seeing it; but thegreat silver altar is from the Baptistery, and being made for thattemple is naturally dedicated to the life of John the Baptist. Althoughmuch of it was the work of not the greatest modellers in the secondhalf of the fourteenth century, three masters at least contributedlater: Michelozzo adding the statue of the Baptist, Pollaiuolo theside relief depicting his birth, and Verrocchio that of his death, which is considered one of the most remarkable works of this sculptor, whom we are to find so richly represented at the Bargello. Beforeleaving this room, look for 100^3, an unknown terra-cotta of theBirth of Eve, which is both masterly and amusing, and 110^4, a verylovely intaglio in wood. I might add that among the few paintings, all very early, is a S. Sebastian in whose sacred body I counted nofewer than thirty arrows; which within my knowledge of pictures ofthis saint--not inconsiderable--is the highest number. The next room is given to models and architectural plans anddrawings connected with the cathedral, the most interesting thingbeing Brunelleschi's own model for the lantern. On the stairs are aseries of fine bas-reliefs by Bandinelli and Giovanni dell' Opera fromthe old choir screen of the Duomo, and downstairs, among many otherpieces of sculpture, is a bust of Brunelleschi from a death-mask andseveral beautiful della Robbia designs for lunettes over doors. CHAPTER IV The Campanile and the Baptistery A short way with Veronese critics--Giotto's missing spire--Donatello'sholy men--Giotto as encyclopaedist--The seven and twentyreliefs--Ruskin in American--At the top of the tower--A sea ofred roofs--The restful Baptistery--Historic stones--An ex-Pope'stomb--Andrea Pisano's doors--Ghiberti's first doors--Ghiberti's seconddoors--Michelangelo's praise--A gentleman artist. It was in 1332, as I have said, that Giotto was made capo-maestro, and on July 18th, 1334, the first stone of his campanile was laid, theunderstanding being that the structure was to exceed "in magnificence, height, and excellence of workmanship" anything in the world. Assome further indication of the glorious feeling of patriotism thenanimating the Florentines, it may be remarked that when a Veronesewho happened to be in Florence ventured to suggest that the citywas aiming rather too high, he was at once thrown into gaol, and, on being set free when his time was done, was shown the treasury asan object lesson. Of the wealth and purposefulness of Florence atthat time, in spite of the disastrous bellicose period she had beenpassing through, Villani the historian, who wrote history as it wasbeing made, gives an excellent account, which Macaulay summarizes inhis vivid way. Thus: "The revenue of the Republic amounted to threehundred thousand florins; a sum which, allowing for the depreciation ofthe precious metals, was at least equivalent to six hundred thousandpounds sterling; a larger sum than England and Ireland, two centuriesago, yielded to Elizabeth. The manufacture of wool alone employed twohundred factories and thirty thousand workmen. The cloth annuallyproduced sold, at an average, for twelve hundred thousand florins;a sum fully equal in exchangeable value to two millions and a half ofour money. Four hundred thousand florins were annually coined. Eightybanks conducted the commercial operations, not of Florence only but ofall Europe. The transactions of these establishments were sometimesof a magnitude which may surprise even the contemporaries of theBarings and the Rothschilds. Two houses advanced to Edward III ofEngland upwards of three hundred thousand marks, at a time when themark contained more silver than fifty shillings of the present day, and when the value of silver was more than quadruple of what it nowis. The city and its environs contained a hundred and seventy thousandchildren inhabitants. In the various schools about ten thousandchildren were taught to read; twelve hundred studied arithmetic;six hundred received a learned education. " Giotto died in 1386, and after his death, as I have said, AndreaPisano came in for a while; to be followed by Talenti, who is saidto have made considerable alterations in Giotto's design and tobe responsible for the happy idea of increasing the height of thewindows with the height of the tower and thus adding to the illusionof springing lightness. The topmost ones, so bold in size and solovely with their spiral columns, almost seem to lift it. The campanile to-day is 276 feet in height, and Giotto proposed toadd to that a spire of 105 feet. The Florentines completed the façadeof the cathedral in 1887 and are now spending enormous sums on theMedici chapel at S. Lorenzo; why should they not one day carry outtheir greatest artist's intention? The campanile as a structure had been finished in 1387, but not formany years did it receive its statues, of which something must be said, although it is impossible to get more than a vague idea of them, sohigh are they. A captive balloon should be arranged for the use ofvisitors. Those by Donatello, on the Baptistery side, are the mostremarkable. The first of these--that nearest to the cathedral andthe most striking as seen from the distant earth--is called John theBaptist, always a favourite subject with this sculptor, who, sincehe more than any at that thoughtful time endeavoured to discoverand disclose the secret of character, is curiously unfortunate inthe accident that has fastened names to these figures. This John, for example, bears no relation to his other Baptists; nor does thenext figure represent David, as is generally supposed, but owes thaterror to the circumstance that when the David that originally stoodhere was moved to the north side, the old plinth bearing his name wasleft behind. This famous figure is stated by Vasari to be a portrait ofa Florentine merchant named Barduccio Cherichini, and for centuries ithas been known as Il Zuccone (or pumpkin) from its baldness. Donatello, according to Vasari, had a particular liking for the work, so much thathe used to swear by it; while, when engaged upon it, he is said tohave so believed in its reality as to exclaim, "Speak, speak! or maya dysentery seize thee!" It is now generally considered to representJob, and we cannot too much regret the impossibility of getting nearenough to study it. Next is the Jeremiah, which, according to Vasari, was a portrait of another Florentine, but which, since he bears hisname on a scroll, may none the less be taken to realize the sculptor'sidea of Jeremiah. It is (according to the photographs) a fine pieceof rugged vivacity, and the head is absolutely that of a real man. Onthe opposite side of the tower is the magnificent Abraham's sacrificefrom the same strong hand, and by it Habakkuk, who is no less nearlife than the Jeremiah and Job, but a very different type. At bothOr San Michele and the Bargello we are to find Donatello perhaps ina finer mood than here, and comfortably visible. For most visitors to Florence and all disciples of Ruskin, the chiefinterest of the campanile ("The Shepherd's Tower" as he calls it)is the series of twenty-seven reliefs illustrating the history ofthe world and the progress of mankind, which are to be seen round thebase, the design, it is supposed, of Giotto, executed by Andrea Pisanoand Luca della Robbia. To Andrea are given all those on the west (7), south (7), east (5), and the two eastern ones on the north; to Luca theremaining five on the north. Ruskin's fascinating analysis of thesereliefs should most certainly be read (without a total forgetfulnessof the shepherd's other activities as a painter, architect, humorist, and friend of princes and poets), but equally certainly not in theAmerican pirated edition which the Florentine booksellers are so ready(to their shame) to sell you. Only Ruskin in his best mood of furycould begin to do justice to the misspellings and mispunctuations ofthis terrible production. Ruskin, I may say, believes several of the carvings to be fromGiotto's own chisel as well as design, but other and more modernauthorities disagree, although opinion now inclines to the beliefthat the designs for Pisano's Baptistery doors are also his. Suchthoroughness and ingenuity were all in Giotto's way, and they certainlysuggest his active mind. The campanile series begins at the west sidewith the creation of man. Among the most attractive are, I think, those devoted to agriculture, with the spirited oxen, to astronomy, toarchitecture, to weaving, and to pottery. Giotto was even so thoroughas to give one relief to the conquest of the air; and he makes Noahmost satisfactorily drunk. Note also the Florentine fleur-de-lisround the base of the tower. Every fleur-de-lis in Florence isbeautiful--even those on advertisements and fire-plugs--but few aremore beautiful than these. I climbed the campanile one fine morning--417 steps from theground--and was well repaid; but I think it is wiser to ascend thetower of the Palazzo Vecchio, because one is higher there and, sincethe bulk of the dome, which intrudes from the campanile, is avoided, one has a better all-round view. Florence seen from this eminenceis very red--so uniformly so that many towers rise against it almostindistinguishably, particularly the Bargello's and the Badia's. Onesees at once how few straight streets there are--the Ricasoli standingout among them as the exception; and one realizes how the city hasdeveloped outside, with its boulevards where the walls once were, leaving the gates isolated, and its cincture of factories. Theoccasional glimpses of cloisters and verdure among the red are verypleasant. One of the objects cut off by the cathedral dome is theEnglish cemetery, but the modern Jewish temple stands out as noticeablyalmost as any of the ancient buildings. The Pitti looks like nothingbut a barracks and the Porta Ferdinando has prominence which it getsfrom no other point. The roof of the Mercato Centrale is the ugliestthing in the view. While I was there the midday gun from the Bobolifortress was fired, instantly having its punctual double effect ofsending all the pigeons up in a grey cloud of simulated alarm andstarting every bell in the city. Those wishing to make either the campanile or Duomo ascents mustremember to do it early. The closing hour for the day being twelve, no one is allowed to start up after about a quarter past eleven: avery foolish arrangement, since Florence and the surrounding Apenninesunder a slanting sun are more beautiful than in the morning glare, and the ascent would be less fatiguing. As it was, on descending, afterbeing so long at the top, I was severely reprimanded by the custodian, who had previously marked me down as a barbarian for refusing his offerof field-glasses. But the Palazzo Vecchio tower is open till five. The Baptistery is the beautiful octagonal building opposite thecathedral, and once the cathedral itself. It dates from the seventhor eighth century, but as we see it now is a product chiefly of thethirteenth. The bronze doors opposite the Via Calzaioli are open everyday, a circumstance which visitors, baffled by the two sets of Ghibertidoors always so firmly closed, are apt to overlook. All children bornin Florence are still baptized here, and I watched one afternoon an oldpriest at the task, a tiny Florentine being brought in to receive thename of Tosca, which she did with less distaste than most, consideringhow thorough was his sprinkling. The Baptistery is rich in colourboth without and within. The floor alone is a marvel of intricateinlaying, including the signs of the zodiac and a gnomic sentence whichreads the same backwards and forwards--"En gire torte sol ciclos etroterigne". On this very pavement Dante, who called the church his"beautiful San Giovanni, " has walked. Over the altar is a giganticand primitive Christ in mosaic, more splendid than spiritual. Themosaics in the recesses of the clerestory--grey and white--are themost soft and lovely of all. I believe the Baptistery is the mostrestful place in Florence; and this is rather odd considering that itis all marble and mosaic patterns. But its shape is very soothing, and age has given it a quality of its own, and there is just thattouch of barbarism about it such as one gets in Byzantine buildingsto lend it a peculiar character here. The most notable sculpture in the Baptistery is the tomb of the ex-PopeJohn XXIII, whose licentiousness was such that there was nothing forit but to depose and imprison him. He had, however, much money, and onhis liberation he settled in Florence, presented a true finger of Johnthe Baptist to the Baptistery, and arranged in return for his bonesto repose in that sanctuary. One of his executors was that Niccolòda Uzzano, the head of the noble faction in the city, whose colouredbust by Donatello is in the Bargello. The tomb is exceedingly fine, the work of Donatello and his partner Michelozzo, who were engagedto make it by Giovanni de' Medici, the ex-pontiff's friend, and thefather of the great Cosimo. The design is all Donatello's, and histhe recumbent cleric, lying very naturally, hardly as if dead atall, a little on one side, so that his face is seen nearly full;the three figures beneath are Michelozzo's; but Donatello probablycarved the seated angels who display the scroll which bears thedead Pope's name. The Madonna and Child above are by Donatello'sassistant, Pagno di Lapo Portigiani, a pretty relief by whom we sawin the Museum of the Cathedral. Being in red stone, and very dusty, like Ghiberti's doors (which want the hose regularly), the lines ofthe tomb are much impaired. Donatello is also represented here by aMary Magdalene in wood, on an altar at the left of the entrance door, very powerful and poignant. In the ordinary way, when visitors to Florence speak of the Baptisterydoors they mean those opposite the Duomo, and when they go to theBargello and look at the designs made by Ghiberti and Brunelleschi incompetition, they think that the competition was for those. But thatis wrong. Ghiberti won his spurs with the doors on the north side, at which comparatively few persons look. The famous doors oppositethe Duomo were commissioned many years later, when his genius wasacknowledged and when he had become so accomplished as to do whathe liked with his medium. Before, however, coming to Ghiberti, we ought to look at the work of an early predecessor but for whomthere might have been no Ghiberti at all; for while Ghiberti was atwork with his assistants on these north doors, between 1403 and 1424, the place which they occupy was filled by those executed seventy yearsearlier by Andrea Pisano (1270-1348), possibly from Giotto's designs, which are now at the south entrance, opposite the charming littleloggia at the corner of the Via Calzaioli, called the Bigallo. Theserepresent twenty scenes in the life of S. John the Baptist, and belowthem are eight figures of cardinal and Christian virtues, and theyemployed their sculptor from 1330 to 1336. They have three claims tonotice: as being admirably simple and vigorous in themselves; as havinginfluenced all later workers in this medium, and particularly Ghibertiand Donatello; and as being the bronze work of the sculptor of certainof the stone scenes round the base of Giotto's campanile. The panelin which the Baptist is seen up to his waist in the water is surelythe very last word in audacity in bronze. Ghiberti was charged withmaking bronze do things that it was ill fitted for; but I do not knowthat even he moulded water--and transparent water--from it. The year 1399 is one of the most notable in the history of modern art, since it was then that the competition for the Baptistery gates wasmade public, this announcement being the spring from which many riversflowed. In that year Lorenzo Ghiberti, a young goldsmith assistinghis father, was twenty-one, and Filippo Brunelleschi, anothergoldsmith, was twenty-two, while Giotto had been dead sixty-threeyears and the impulse he had given to painting had almost workeditself out. The new doors were to be of the same shape and size asthose by Andrea Pisano, which were already getting on for seventyyears old, and candidates were invited to make a specimen relief toscale, representing the interrupted sacrifice of Isaac, althoughthe subject-matter of the doors was to be the Life of S. John theBaptist. Among the judges was that Florentine banker whose namewas beginning to be known in the city as a synonym for philanthropy, enlightenment, and sagacity, Giovanni de' Medici. In 1401 the specimenswere ready, and after much deliberation as to which was the better, Ghiberti's or Brunelleschi's--assisted, some say, by Brunelleschi'sown advice in favour of his rival--the award was given to Ghiberti, and he was instructed to proceed with his task; while Brunelleschi, as we have seen, being a man of determined ambition, left for Rome tostudy architecture, having made up his mind to be second to no onein whichever of the arts and crafts he decided to pursue. Here thenwas the first result of the competition--that it turned Brunelleschito architecture. Ghiberti began seriously in 1408 and continued till 1424, when thedoors were finished; but, in order to carry out the work, he requiredassistance in casting and so forth, and for that purpose engaged amongothers a sculptor named Donatello (born in 1386), a younger sculptornamed Luca della Robbia (born in 1400), and a gigantic young paintercalled Masaccio (born in 1401), each of whom was destined, takingfire no doubt from Ghiberti and his fine free way, to be a powerfulinnovator--Donatello (apart from other and rarer achievements) beingthe first sculptor since antiquity to place a statue on a pedestalaround which observers could walk; Masaccio being the first painterto make pictures in the modern use of the term, with men and womenof flesh and blood in them, as distinguished from decorative saints, and to be by example the instructor of all the greatest masters, from his pupil Lippo Lippi to Leonardo and Michelangelo; and Lucadella Robbia being the inspired discoverer of an inexpensive means ofglazing terra-cotta so that his beautiful and radiant Madonnas couldbe brought within the purchasing means of the poorest congregation inItaly. These alone are remarkable enough results, but when we recollectalso that Brunelleschi's defeat led to the building of the cathedraldome, the significance of the event becomes the more extraordinary. The doors, as I say, were finished in 1424, after twenty-one years'labour, and the Signoria left the Palazzo Vecchio in procession to seetheir installation. In the number and shape of the panels Pisano setthe standard, but Ghiberti's work resembled that of his predecessorvery little in other ways, for he had a mind of domestic sweetnesswithout austerity and he was interested in making everything as easyand fluid and beautiful as might be. His thoroughness recalls Giottoin certain of his frescoes. The impression left by Pisano's doors isakin to that left by reading the New Testament; but Ghiberti makeseverything happier than that. Two scenes--both on the level of theeye--I particularly like: the "Annunciation, " with its little, lithe, reluctant Virgin, and the "Adoration". The border of the Pisano doorsis, I think, finer than that of Ghiberti's; but it is a later work. Looking at them even now, with eyes that remember so much of thebest art that followed them and took inspiration from them, wecan understand the better how delighted Florence must have beenwith this new picture gallery and how the doors were besieged bysightseers. But greater still was to come. Ghiberti at once receivedthe commission to make two more doors on his own scale for the southside of the Baptistery, and in 1425 he had begun on them. These werenot finished until 1452, so that Ghiberti, then a man of seventy-four, had given practically his whole life to the making of four bronzedoors. It is true that he did a few other things besides, such as thecasket of S. Zenobius in the Duomo, and the Baptist and S. Matthewfor Or San Michele; but he may be said justly to live by his doors, and particularly by the second pair, although it was the first pairthat had the greater effect on his contemporaries and followers. Among his assistants on these were Antonio Pollaiuolo (born in1429), who designed the quail in the left border, and Paolo Uccello(born in 1397), both destined to be men of influence. The bald headon the right door is a portrait of Ghiberti; that of the old manon the left is his father, who helped him to polish the originalcompetition plaque. Although commissioned for the south side theywere placed where they now are, on the east, as being most worthy ofthe position of honour, and Pisano's doors, which used to be here, were moved to the south, where they now are. On Ghiberti's workshop opposite S. Maria Nuova, in the Via Bufalini, the memorial tablet mentions Michelangelo's praise--that these doorswere beautiful enough to be the Gates of Paradise. After that what isan ordinary person to say? That they are lovely is a commonplace. Butthey are more. They are so sensitive; bronze, the medium which Horacehas called, by implication, the most durable of all, has become inGhiberti's hands almost as soft as wax and tender as flesh. It doesall he asks; it almost moves; every trace of sternness has vanishedfrom it. Nothing in plastic art that we have ever seen or shall seeis more easy and ingratiating than these almost living pictures. Before them there is steadily a little knot of admirers, and onSundays you may always see country people explaining the panels to eachother. Every one has his favourite among these fascinating Biblicalscenes, and mine are Cain and Abel, with the ploughing, and Abrahamand Isaac, with its row of fir trees. It has been explained by thepurists that the sculptor stretched the bounds of plastic art toofar and made bronze paint pictures; but most persons will agree toignore that. Of the charm of Ghiberti's mind the border gives furtherevidence, with its fruits and foliage, birds and woodland creatures, so true to life, and here fixed for all time, so naturally, that ifthese animals should ever (as is not unlikely in Italy where everyone has a gun and shoots at his pleasure) become extinct, they couldbe created again from these designs. Ghiberti, who enjoyed great honour in his life and a considerablesalary as joint architect of the dome with Brunelleschi, died threeyears after the completion of the second doors and was buried inS. Croce. His place in Florentine art is unique and glorious. The broken porphyry pillars by these second doors were a gift fromPisa to Florence in recognition of Florence's watchfulness over Pisawhile the Pisans were away subduing the Balearic islanders. The bronze group over Ghiberti's first doors, representing Johnthe Baptist preaching between a Pharisee and a Levite, are thework (either alone or assisted by his master Leonardo da Vinci)of an interesting Florentine sculptor, Giovanni Francesco Rustici(1474-1554), who was remarkable among the artists of his time inbeing what we should call an amateur, having a competence of his ownand the manners of a patron. Placing himself under Verrocchio, hebecame closely attached to Leonardo, a fellow-pupil, and made him hismodel rather than the older man. He took his art lightly, and lived, in Vasari's phrase, "free from care, " having such beguilements as atame menagerie (Leonardo, it will be remembered, loved animals too andhad a habit of buying small caged birds in order to set them free), and two or three dining clubs, the members of which vied with eachother in devising curious and exotic dishes. Andrea del Sarto, forexample, once brought as his contribution to the feast a model of thisvery church we are studying, the Baptistery, of which the floor wasconstructed of jelly, the pillars of sausages, and the choir desk ofcold veal, while the choristers were roast thrushes. Rustici furtherpaved the way to a life free from care by appointing a steward of hisestate whose duty it was to see that his money-box, to which he wentwhenever he wanted anything, always had money in it. This box he neverlocked, having learned that he need fear no robbery by once leavinghis cloak for two days under a bush and then finding it again. "Thisworld, " he exclaimed, "is too good: it will not last. " Among his petswere a porcupine trained to prick the legs of his guests under thetable "so that they drew them in quickly"; a raven that spoke like ahuman being; an eagle, and many snakes. He also studied necromancy, the better to frighten his apprentices. He left Florence in 1528, after the Medici expulsion, and, like Leonardo, took service withFrancis the First. He died at the age of eighty. I had an hour and more exactly opposite the Rustici group, on the samelevel, while waiting for the Scoppio del Carro, and I find it easyto believe that Leonardo himself had a hand in the work. The figureof the Baptist is superb, the attitude of his listeners masterly. CHAPTER V The Riccardi Palace and the Medici An evasion of history--"Il Caparra"--The Gozzoli frescoes--Giovannide' Medici (di Bicci)--Cosimo de' Medici--The first banishment--Pierode' Medici--Lorenzo de' Medici--Piero di Lorenzo de' Medici--Thesecond banishment--Giuliano di Lorenzo de' Medici--Leo X--Lorenzo diPiero di Lorenzo de' Medici--Clement VII--Third banishment of theMedici--The siege of Florence--Alessandro de' Medici--Ippolito de'Medici--Lorenzino de' Medici--Giovanni delle Bande Nere--Cosimo I--TheGrand Dukes. The natural step from the Baptistery would be to the Uffizi. But forus not yet; because in order to understand Florence, and particularlythe Florence that existed between the extreme dates that I have chosenas containing the fascinating period--namely 1296, when the Duomo wasbegun, and 1564, when Michelangelo died--one must understand who andwhat the Medici were. While I have been enjoying the pleasant task of writing thisbook--which has been more agreeable than any literary work I have everdone--I have continually been conscious of a plaintive voice at myshoulder, proceeding from one of the vigilant and embarrassing impswho sit there and do duty as conscience, inquiring if the time is notabout ripe for introducing that historical sketch of Florence withoutwhich no account such as this can be rightly understood. And ever Ihave replied with words of a soothing and procrastinating nature. Butnow that we are face to face with the Medici family, in their veryhouse, I am conscious that the occasion for that historical sketchis here indeed, and equally I am conscious of being quite incapableof supplying it. For the history of Florence between, say the birthof Giotto or Dante and the return of Cosimo de' Medici from exile, when the absolute Medici rule began, is so turbulent, crowded, andcomplex that it would require the whole of this volume to describeit. The changes in the government of the city would alone occupy agood third, so constant and complicated were they. I should have toexplain the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, the Neri and the Bianchi, the Guilds and the Priors, the gonfalonieri and the podesta, thesecondo popolo and the buonuomini. Rather than do this imperfectly I have chosen to do it not at all;and the curious must resort to historians proper. But there is atthe end of the volume a table of the chief dates in Florentine andEuropean history in the period chosen, together with births and deathsof artists and poets and other important persons, so that a bird's-eyeview of the progress of affairs can be quickly gained, while in thischapter I offer an outline of the great family of rulers of Florencewho made the little city an aesthetic lawgiver to the world and withwhom her later fame, good or ill, is indissolubly united. For the rest, is there not the library? The Medici, once so powerful and stimulating, are still ever in thebackground of Florence as one wanders hither and thither. They arebehind many of the best pictures and most of the best statues. Theirescutcheon is everywhere. I ought, I believe, to have made themthe subject of my first chapter. But since I did not, let us withoutfurther delay turn to the Via Cavour, which runs away to the north fromthe Baptistery, being a continuation of the Via de' Martelli, and pauseat the massive and dignified palace at the first corner on the left. For that is the Medici's home; and afterwards we will step intoS. Lorenzo and see the church which Brunelleschi and Donatello madebeautiful and Michelangelo wonderful that the Medici might lie there. Visitors go to the Riccardi palace rather to see Gozzoli's frescoesthan anything else; and indeed apart from the noble solid Renaissancearchitecture of Michelozzo there is not much else to see. In thecourtyard are certain fragments of antique sculpture arranged againstthe walls, and a sarcophagus is shown in which an early member of thefamily, Guccio de' Medici, who was gonfalonier in 1299, once reposed. There too are Donatello's eight medallions, but they are not veryinteresting, being only enlarged copies of old medals and cameos andnot notable for his own characteristics. Hence it is that, after Gozzoli, by far the most interestingpart of this building is its associations. For here lived Cosimode' Medici, whose building of the palace was interrupted by hisbanishment as a citizen of dangerous ambition; here lived Pierode' Medici, for whom Gozzoli worked; here was born and here livedLorenzo the Magnificent. To this palace came the Pazzi conspiratorsto lure Giuliano to the Duomo and his doom. Here did CharlesVIII--Savonarola's "Flagellum Dei"--lodge and loot, and it was herethat Capponi frightened him with the threat of the Florentine bells;hither came in 1494 the fickle and terrible Florentine mob, alwayspassionate in its pursuit of change and excitement, and now inflamedby the sermons of Savonarola, to destroy the priceless manuscriptsand works of art; here was brought up for a year or so the littleCatherine de' Medici, and next door was the house in which Alessandrode' Medici was murdered. It was in the seventeenth century that the palace passed to theRiccardi family, who made many additions. A century later Florenceacquired it, and to-day it is the seat of the Prefect of thecity. Cosimo's original building was smaller; but much of it remainsuntouched. The exquisite cornice is Michelozzo's original, and thecourtyard has merely lost its statues, among which are Donatello'sJudith, now in the Loggia de' Lanzi, and his bronze David, now in theBargello, while Verrocchio's David was probably on the stairs. Theescutcheon on the corner of the house gives us the period of itserection. The seven plain balls proclaim it Cosimo's. Each ofthe Medici sported these palle, although each had also his privatecrest. Under Giovanni, Cosimo's father, the balls were eight in number;under Cosimo, seven; under Piero, seven, with the fleur-de-lis ofFrance on the uppermost, given him by Louis XI; under Lorenzo, six;and as one walks about Florence one can approximately fix the date ofa building by remembering these changes. How many times they occur onthe façades of Florence and its vicinity, probably no one could say;but they are everywhere. The French wits, who were amused to deriveCatherine de' Medici from a family of apothecaries, called them pills. The beautiful lantern at the corner was added by Lorenzo and wasthe work of an odd ironsmith in Florence for whom he had a greatliking--Niccolò Grosso. For Lorenzo had all that delight in characterwhich belongs so often to the born patron and usually to the bornconnoisseur. This Grosso was a man of humorous independence andbluntness. He had the admirable custom of carrying out his commissionsin the order in which they arrived, so that if he was at work upon aset of fire-irons for a poor client, not even Lorenzo himself (who asa matter of fact often tried) could induce him to turn to somethingmore lucrative. The rich who cannot wait he forced to wait. Grossoalso always insisted upon something in advance and payment ondelivery, and pleasantly described his workshop as being the Signof the Burning Books, --since if his books were burnt how could heenter a debt? This rule earned for him from Lorenzo the nickname of"Il Caparra" (earnest money). Another of Grosso's eccentricities wasto refuse to work for Jews. Within the palace, up stairs, is the little chapel which Gozzoli madeso gay and fascinating that it is probably the very gem among theprivate chapels of the world. Here not only did the Medici performtheir devotions--Lorenzo's corner seat is still shown, and anyonemay sit in it--but their splendour and taste are reflected on thewalls. Cosimo, as we shall see when we reach S. Marco, invited FraAngelico to paint upon the walls of that convent sweet and simplefrescoes to the glory of God. Piero employed Fra Angelico's pupil, Benozzo Gozzoli to decorate this chapel. In the year 1439, as chapter II related, through the instrumentalityof Cosimo a great episcopal Council was held at Florence, at whichJohn Palaeologus, Emperor of the East, met Pope Eugenius IV. In thatyear Cosimo's son Piero was twenty-three, and Gozzoli nineteen, and probably upon both, but certainly on the young artist, suchpomp and splendour and gorgeousness of costume as then were visiblein Florence made a deep impression. When therefore Piero, afterbecoming head of the family, decided to decorate the chapel witha procession of Magi, it is not surprising that the painter shouldrecall this historic occasion. We thus get the pageantry of the Eastwith more than common realism, while the portraits, or at any raterepresentations, of the Patriarch of Constantinople (the first king)and the Emperor (the second king) are here, together with those ofcertain Medici, for the youthful third king is none other than Piero'seldest son Lorenzo. Among their followers are (the third on the left)Cosimo de' Medici, who is included as among the living, although, like the Patriarch of Constantinople, he was dead, and his brotherLorenzo (the middle one of the three), whose existence is forgottenso completely until the accession of Cosimo I, in 1537, brings hisbranch of the family into power; while on the right is Piero de'Medici himself. Piero's second son Giuliano is on the white horse, preceded by a negro carrying his bow. The head immediately aboveGiuliano I do not know, but that one a little to the left above itis Gozzoli's own. Among the throng are men of learning who eithercame to Florence from the East or Florentines who assimilated theirphilosophy--such as Georgius Gemisthos, Marsilio Ficino, and perhapscertain painters among them, all protégés of Cosimo and Piero, andall makers of the Renaissance. The assemblage alone, apart altogether from any beauty and charmthat the painting possesses, makes these frescoes valuable. But thepainting is a delight. We have a pretty Gozzoli in our NationalGallery--No. 283--but it gives no indication of the ripeness andrichness and incident of this work; while the famous Biblicalseries in the Campo Santo of Pisa has so largely perished as to bescarcely evidence to his colour. The first impression made by theMedici frescoes is their sumptuousness. When Gozzoli painted--if thestory be true--he had only candle light: the window over the altaris new. But think of candle light being all the illumination of thesewalls as the painter worked! A new door and window have also been cutin the wall opposite the altar close to the three daughters of Piero, by vandal hands; and "Bruta, bruta!" says the guardian, very rightly. The landscape behind the procession is hardly less interesting than theprocession itself; but it is when we come to the meadows of paradise, with the angels and roses, the cypresses and birds, in the two chancelscenes, that this side of Gozzoli's art is most fascinating. He hastravelled a long way from his master Fra Angelico here: the heavenis of the visible rather than the invisible eye; sense is presentas well as the rapturous spirit. The little Medici who endured thetedium of the services here are to be felicitated with upon such anadorable presentment of glory. With plenty of altar candles the sightof these gardens of the blest must have beguiled many a mass. Thinkinghere in England upon the Medici chapel, I find that the impressionit has left upon me is chiefly cypresses--cypresses black and comely, disposed by a master hand, with a glint of gold among them. The picture that was over the altar has gone. It was a Lippo Lippiand is now in Berlin. The first of the Medici family to rise to the highest power wasGiovanni d'Averardo de' Medici (known as Giovanni di Bicci), 1360-1429, who, a wealthy banker living in what is now the Piazza del Duomo, was well known for his philanthropy and interest in the welfare ofthe Florentines, but does not come much into public notice until1401, when he was appointed one of the judges in the Baptistery doorcompetition. He was a retiring, watchful man. Whether he was personallyambitious is not too evident, but he was opposed to tyranny and was thesteady foe of the Albizzi faction, who at that time were endeavouringto obtain supreme power in Florentine affairs. In 1419 Giovanniincreased his popularity by founding the Spedale degli Innocenti, and in 1421 he was elected gonfalonier, or, as we might now say, President of the Republic. In this capacity he made his positionsecure and reduced the nobles (chief of whom was Niccolò da Uzzano)to political weakness. Giovanni died in 1429, leaving one son, Cosimo, aged forty, a second, Lorenzo, aged thirtyfour, a fragrant memoryand an immense fortune. To Lorenzo, who remained a private citizen, we shall return in time;it is Cosimo (1389-1464) with whom we are now concerned. Cosimo de'Medici was a man of great mental and practical ability: he had beeneducated as well as possible; he had a passion both for art andletters; he inherited his father's financial ability and generosity, while he added to these gifts a certain genius for the managementof men. One of the first things that Cosimo did after his father'sdeath was to begin the palace where we now are, rejecting a plan byBrunelleschi as too splendid, and choosing instead one by Michelozzo, the partner of Donatello, two artists who remained his personalfriends through life. Cosimo selected this site, in what was thenthe Via Larga but is now the Via Cavour, partly because his fatherhad once lived there, and partly because it was close to S. Lorenzo, which his father, with six other families, had begun to rebuild, a work he intended himself to carry on. The palace was begun in 1430 abd was still in progress in 1433 whenthe Albizzi, who had always viewed the rise of the Medici familywith apprehension and misgiving, and were now strengthened by thedeath of Niccolò da Uzzano, who, though powerful, had been a verycautious and temperate adviser, succeeded in getting a majorityin the Signoria and passing a sentence of banishment on the wholeMedici tribe as being too rich and ambitious to be good citizens ofa simple and frugal Republic. Cosimo therefore, after some days ofimprisonment in the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio, during which heexpected execution at any moment, left Florence for Venice, takinghis architect with him. In 1434, however, the Florentines, realizingthat under the Albizzi they were losing their independence, and whatwas to be a democracy was become an oligarchy, revolted, and Cosimowas recalled, and, like his father, was elected gonfalonier. With thisrecall began his long supremacy; for he returned like a king and likea king remained, quickly establishing himself as the leading man inthe city, the power behind the Signoria. Not only did he never losethat position, but he made it so naturally his own that when he diedhe was able to transmit it to his son. Cosimo de' Medici was, I think, the wisest and best ruler that Florenceever had and ranks high among the rulers that any state ever had. Buthe changed the Florentines from an independent people to a dependentone. In his capacity of Father of his Country he saw to it that hischildren lost their proud spirit. He had to be absolute; and thisend he achieved in many ways, but chiefly by his wealth, which madeit possible to break the rich rebel and to enslave the poor. Hisgreatest asset--next his wealth--was his knowledge of the Florentinecharacter. To know anything of this capricious, fickle, turbulentfolk even after the event was in itself a task of such magnitude thatalmost no one else had compassed it; but Cosimo did more, he knew whatthey were likely to do. By this knowledge, together with his riches, his craft, his tact, his business ramifications as an internationalbanker, his open-handedness and air of personal simplicity, Cosimomade himself a power. For Florence could he notdo enough. By inviting the Pope and the Greek Emperor to meet therehe gave it great political importance, and incidentally broughtabout the New Learning. He established the Platonic Academy andformed the first public library in the west. He rebuilt and endowedthe monastery of S. Marco. He built and rebuilt other churches. Hegave Donatello a free hand in sculpture and Fra Lippo Lippi and FraAngelico in painting. He distributed altogether in charity and churchesfour hundred thousand of those golden coins which were invented byFlorence and named florins after her--a sum equal to a million poundsof to-day. In every direction one comes upon traces of his generosityand thoroughness. After his death it was decided that as Pater Patriae, or Father of his Country, he should be for ever known. Cosimo died in 1464, leaving an invalid son, Piero, aged forty-eight, known for his almost continuous gout as Il Gottoso. Giovanni and Cosimohad had to work for their power; Piero stepped naturally into it, although almost immediately he had to deal with a plot--the first forthirty years--to ruin the Medici prestige, the leader of which was thatLuca Pitti who began the Pitti palace in order to have a better housethan the Medici. The plot failed, not a little owing to young Lorenzode' Medici's address, and the remaining few years of Piero's life weretranquil. He was a quiet, kindly man with the traditional family loveof the arts, and it was for him that Gozzoli worked. He died in 1469, leaving two sons, Lorenzo (1449-1492) and Giuliano (1453-1478). Lorenzo had been brought up as the future leading citizen of Florence:he had every advantage of education and environment, and was rich inthe aristocratic spirit which often blossoms most richly in the secondor third generation of wealthy business families. Giovanni had beena banker before everything, Cosimo an administrator, Piero a faithfulinheritor of his father's wishes; it was left for Lorenzo to be thefirst poet and natural prince of the Medici blood. Lorenzo continuedto bank but mismanaged the work and lost heavily; while his poeticaltendencies no doubt distracted his attention generally from affairs. Yet such was his sympathetic understanding and his native splendour andgift of leadership that he could not but be at the head of everything, the first to be consulted and ingratiated. Not only was he the firstMedici poet but the first of the family to marry not for love butfor policy, and that too was a sign of decadence. Lorenzo came into power when only twenty, and at the age of forty-twohe was dead, but in the interval, by his interest in every kind ofintellectual and artistic activity, by his passion for the greatnessand glory of Florence, he made for himself a name that must alwaysconnote liberality, splendour, and enlightenment. But it is beyondquestion that under Lorenzo the Florentines changed deeply and forthe worse. The old thrift and simplicity gave way to extravagance andostentation; the old faith gave way too, but that was not wholly theeffect of Lorenzo's natural inclination towards Platonic philosophy, fostered by his tutor Marsilio Ficino and his friends Poliziano andPico della Mirandola, but was due in no small measure also to thehostility of Pope Sixtus, which culminated in the Pazzi Conspiracy of1478 and the murder of Giuliano. Looking at the history of Florencefrom our present vantage-point we can see that although underLorenzo the Magnificent she was the centre of the world's cultureand distinction, there was behind this dazzling front no seriousnessof purpose. She was in short enjoying the fruits of her labours asthough the time of rest had come; and this when strenuousness was morethan ever important. Lorenzo carried on every good work of his fatherand grandfather (he spent £65, 000 a year in books alone) and was asjealous of Florentine interests; but he was also "The Magnificent, "and in that lay the peril. Florence could do with wealth and power, but magnificence went to her head. Lorenzo died in 1492, leaving three sons, of whom the eldest, Piero(1471-1503), succeeded him. Never was such a decadence. In a momentthe Medici prestige, which had been steadily growing under Cosimo, Piero, and Lorenzo until it was world famous, crumbled to dust. Pierowas a coarse-minded, pleasure-loving youth--"The Headstrong" hisfather had called him--whose one idea of power was to be sensual andtyrannical; and the enemies of Florence and of Italy took advantageof this fact. Savonarola's sermons had paved the way from withintoo. In 1494 Charles VIII of France marched into Italy; Piero pulledhimself together and visited the king to make terms for Florence, but made such terms that on returning to the city he found an orderof banishment and obeyed it. On November 9th, 1494, he and his familywere expelled, and the mob, forgetting so quickly all that they owedto the Medici who had gone before, rushed to this beautiful palace andlooted it. The losses that art and learning sustained in a few hourscan never be estimated. A certain number of treasures were subsequentlycollected again, such as Donatello's David and Verrocchio's David, while Donatello's Judith was removed to the Palazzo Vecchio, wherean inscription was placed upon it saying that her short way withHolofernes was a warning to all traitors; but priceless pictures, sculpture, and MSS. Were ruthlessly demolished. In the chapter on S. Marco we shall read of what experiments ingovernment the Florentines substituted for that of the Medici, Savonarola for a while being at the head of the government, althoughonly for a brief period which ended amid an orgy of lawlessness; andthen, after a restless period of eighteen years, in which Florencehad every claw cut and was weakened also by dissension, the Medicireturned--the change being the work of Lorenzo's second son, Giovannide' Medici, who on the eve of becoming Pope Leo X procured theirreinstatement, thus justifying the wisdom of his father in placinghim in the Church. Piero having been drowned long since, his admirablebut ill-starred brother Giuliano, Duke of Nemours, now thirty-three, assumed the control, always under Leo X; while their cousin, Giulio, also a Churchman, and the natural son of the murdered Giuliano, was busy, behind the scenes, with the family fortunes. Giuliano lived only till 1516 and was succeeded by his nephewLorenzo, Duke of Urbino, a son of Peiro, a young man of no morepolitical use than his father, and one who quickly became almostequally unpopular. Things indeed were going so badly that Leo X sentGiulio de' Medici (now a cardinal) from Rome to straighten them out, and by some sensible repeals he succeeded in allaying a little ofthe bitterness in the city. Lorenzo had one daughter, born in thispalace, who was destined to make history--Catherine de' Medici--andno son. When therefore he died in 1519, at the age of twenty-seven, after a life of vicious selfishness (which, however, was no barto his having the noblest tomb in the world, at S. Lorenzo), thesuccession should have passed to the other branch of the Medicifamily, the descendants of old Giovanni's second son Lorenzo, brother of Cosimo. But Giulio, at Rome, always at the ear of theindolent, pleasure-loving Leo X, had other projects. Born in 1478, the illegitimate son of a charming father, Giulio had none of thegreat Medici traditions, and the Medici name never stood so low asduring his period of power. Himself illegitimate, he was the fatherof an illegitimate son, Alessandro, for whose advancement he toiledmuch as Alexander VI had toiled for that of Caesar Borgia. He had notthe black, bold wickedness of Alexander VI, but as Pope Clement VII, which he became in 1523, he was little less admirable. He was cunning, ambitious, and tyrannical, and during his pontificate he contrived notonly to make many powerful enemies and to see both Rome and Florenceunder siege, but to lose England for the Church. We move, however, too fast. The year is 1519 and Lorenzo is dead, and the rightful heir to the Medici wealth and power was to bekept out. To do this Giulio himself moved to Florence and settledin the Medici palace, and on his return to Rome Cardinal Passeriniwas installed in the Medici palace in his stead, nominally as thecustodian of little Catherine de' Medici and Ippolito, a boy of ten, the illegitimate son of Giuliano, Duke of Nemours. That Florenceshould have put up with this Roman control shows us how enfeebledwas her once proud spirit. In 1521 Leo X died, to be succeeded, inspite of all Giulio's efforts, by Adrian of Utrecht, as Adrian VI, a good, sincere man who, had he lived, might have enormously changedthe course not only of Italian but of English history. He survived, however, for less than two years, and then came Giulio's chance, and he was elected Pope Clement VII. Clement's first duty was to make Florence secure, and he thereforesent his son Alessandro, then about thirteen, to join the othersat the Medici palace, which thus now contained a resident cardinal, watchful of Medici interests; a legitimate daughter of Lorenzo, Dukeof Urbino (but owing to quarrels she was removed to a convent); anillegitimate son of Giuliano, Duke of Nemours, the nominal heir andalready a member of the Government; and the Pope's illegitimate son, of whose origin, however, nothing was said, although it was impliedthat Lorenzo, Duke of Nemours, was his father. This was the state of affairs during Clement's war with the EmperorCharles V, [2] which ended with the siege of Rome and the imprisonmentof the Pope in the Castle of S. Angelo for some months until hecontrived to escape to Orvieto; and meanwhile Florence, realizing hispowerlessness, uttered a decree again banishing the Medici family, andin 1527 they were sent forth from the city for the third time. But evennow, when the move was so safe, Florence lacked courage to carry itout until a member of the Medici family, furious at the presence of thebase-born Medici in the palace, and a professed hater of her base-bornuncle Clement VII and all his ways--Clarice Strozzi, née Clarice de'Medici, granddaughter of Lorenzo the Magnificent--came herself to thishouse and drove the usurpers from it with her extremely capable tongue. To explain clearly the position of the Florentine Republic at thistime would be too deeply to delve into history, but it may briefly besaid that by means of humiliating surrenders and much crafty diplomacy, Clement VII was able to bring about in 1529 peace between the EmperorCharles V and Francis I of France, by which Charles was left masterof Italy, while his partner and ally in these transactions, Clement, expected for his own share certain benefits in which the humiliationof Florence and the exaltation of Alessandro came first. Florence, having taken sides with Francis, found herself in any case very badlyleft, with the result that at the end of 1529 Charles V's army, withthe papal forces to assist, laid siege to her. The siege lasted forten months, in which the city was most ably defended by Ferrucci, that gallant soldier whose portrait by Piero di Cosimo is in ourNational Gallery--No. 895--and then came a decisive battle in whichthe Emperor and Pope were conquerors, a thousand brave Florentineswere put to death and others were imprisoned. Alessandro de' Medici arrived at the Medici palace in 1531, andin 1532 the glorious Florentine Republic of so many years' growth, for the establishment of which so much good blood had been spilt, wasdeclared to be at an end. Alessandro being proclaimed Duke, his firstact was to order the demolition of the great bell of the Signoria whichhad so often called the citizens to arms or meetings of independence. Meanwhile Ippolito, the natural son of Giuliano, Duke of Nemours, andtherefore the rightful heir, after having been sent on various missionsby Clement VII, to keep him out of the way, settled at Bologna and tookto poetry. He was a kindly, melancholy man with a deep sense of humaninjustice; and in 1535, when, after Clement VII's very welcome demise, the Florentine exiles who either had been banished from Florence byAlessandro or had left of their own volition rather than live in thecity under such a contemptible ruler, sent an embassy to the EmperorCharles V to help them against this new tyrant, Ippolito headed it;but Alessandro prudently arranged for his assassination en route. It is unlikely, however, that the Emperor would have done anything, for in the following year he allowed his daughter Margaret to becomeAlessandro's wife. That was in 1536. In January, 1537, Lorenzino de'Medici, a cousin, one of the younger branch of the family, assumingthe mantle of Brutus, or liberator, stabbed Alessandro to death whilehe was keeping an assignation in the house that then adjoined thispalace. Thus died, at the age of twenty-six, one of the most worthlessof men, and, although illegitimate, the last of the direct line ofCosimo de' Medici, the Father of his Country, to govern Florence. The next ruler came from the younger branch, to which we now turn. OldGiovanni di Bicci had two sons, Cosimo and Lorenzo. Lorenzo's son, PierFrancesco de' Medici, had a son Giovanni de' Medici. This Giovanni, who married Caterina Sforza of Milan, had also a son named Giovanni, born in 1498, and it was he who was the rightful heir when Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, died in 1519. He was connected with both sides ofthe family, for his father, as I have said, was the great grandsonof the first Medici on our list, and his wife was Maria Salviati, daughter of Lucrezia de' Medici--herself a daughter of Lorenzo theMagnificent--and Jacopo Salviati, a wealthy Florentine. When, however, Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, died in 1519, Giovanni was a young man oftwenty-one with an absorbing passion for fighting, which Clement VII(then Giulio) was only too keen to foster, since he wished him out ofthe way in order that his own projects for the ultimate advancementof the base-born Alessandro, and meanwhile of the catspaw, thebase-born Ippolito, might be furthered. Giovanni had already donesome good service in the field, was becoming famous as the head ofhis company of Black Bands, and was known as Giovanni delle BandeNere; and his marriage to his cousin Maria Salviati and the birthof his only son Cosimo in 1519 made no difference to his delightin warfare. He was happy only when in the field of battle, and thestruggle between Francis and Charles gave him ample opportunities, fighting on the side of Charles and the Pope and doing many brave anddashing things. He died at an early age, only twenty-eight, in 1526, the idol of his men, leaving a widow and child in poverty. Almost immediately afterwards came the third banishment of the Medicifamily from Florence. Giovanni's widow and their son Cosimo gotalong as best they could until the murder of Alessandro in 1537, when Cosimo was nearly eighteen. He was a quiet, reserved youth, who had apparently taken but little interest in public affairs, andhad spent his time in the country with his mother, chiefly in fieldsports. But no sooner was Alessandro dead, and his slayer Lorenzinohad escaped, than Cosimo approached the Florentine council and claimedto be appointed to his rightful place as head of the State, and thisclaim he put, or suggested, with so much humility that his wish wasgranted. Instantly one of the most remarkable transitions in historyoccurred: the youth grew up almost in a day and at once began to exertunsuspected reserves of power and authority. In despair a number ofthe chief Florentines made an effort to depose him, and a battle wasfought at Montemurlo, a few miles from Florence, between Cosimo'stroops, fortified by some French allies, and the insurgents. Thatwas in 1537; the victory fell to Cosimo; and his long and remarkablereign began with the imprisonment and execution of the chief rebels. Although Cosimo made so bloody a beginning he was the first imaginativeand thoughtful administrator that Florence had had since Lorenzo theMagnificent. He set himself grimly to build upon the ruins which thepast forty and more years had produced; and by the end of his reign hehad worked wonders. As first he lived in the Medici palace, but aftermarrying a wealthy wife, Eleanora of Toledo, he transferred his hometo the Signoria, now called the Palazzo Vecchio, as a safer spot, andestablished a bodyguard of Swiss lancers in Orcagna's loggia, closeby. [3] Later he bought the unfinished Pitti palace with his wife'smoney, finished it, and moved there. Meanwhile he was strengtheninghis position in every way by alliances and treaties, and also by theconvenient murder of Lorenzino, the Brutus who had rid Florence ofAlessandro ten years earlier, and whose presence in the flesh couldnot but be a cause of anxiety since Lorenzino derived from an elderson of the Medici, and Cosimo from a younger. In 1555 the ancientrepublic of Siena fell to Cosimo's troops after a cruel and barbaroussiege and was thereafter merged in Tuscany, and in 1570 Cosimo assumedthe title of Cosimo I, Grand Duke of Tuscany, and was crowned at Rome. Whether or not the common accusation against the Medici as afamily, that they had but one motive--mercenary ambition andself-aggrandisement--is true, the fact remains that the crown didnot reach their brows until one hundred and seventy years from thefirst appearance of old Giovanni di Bicci in Florentine affairs. Thestatue of Cosimo I in the Piazza della Signoria has a bas-relief ofhis coronation. He was then fifty-one; he lived but four more years, and when he died he left a dukedom flourishing in every way: rich, powerful, busy, and enlightened. He had developed and encouragedthe arts, capriciously, as Cellini's "Autobiography" tells us, butgenuinely too, as we can see at the Uffizi and the Pitti. The arts, however, were not what they had been, for the great period had passedand Florence was in the trough of the wave. Yet Cosimo found the bestmen he could--Cellini, Bronzino, and Vasari--and kept them busy. Buthis greatest achievement as a connoisseur was his interest in Etruscanremains and the excavations at Arezzo and elsewhere which yieldedthe priceless relics now at the Archaeological Museum. With Cosimo I this swift review of the Medici family ends. Therest have little interest for the visitor to Florence to-day, for whom Cellini's Perseus, made to Cosimo I's order, is the lastgreat artistic achievement in the city in point of time. But I maysay that Cosimo I's direct descendants occupied the throne (as ithad now become) until the death of Gian Gastone, son of Cosimo III, who died in 1737. Tuscany passed to Austria until 1801. In 1807 itbecame French, and in 1814 Austrian again. In 1860 it was merged inthe Kingdom of Italy under the rule of the monarch who has given hisname to the great new Piazza--Vittorio Emmanuele. After Gian Gastone's death one other Medici remained alive: AnnaMaria Ludovica, daughter of Cosimo III. Born in 1667, she marriedthe Elector Palatine of the Rhine, and survived until 1743. It wasshe who left to the city the priceless Medici collections, as I havestated in chapter VIII. The earlier and greatest of the Medici areburied in the church of S. Lorenzo or in Michelangelo's sacristy; thelater Medici, beginning with Giovanni delle Bande Nere and his wife, and their son Cosimo I, are in the gorgeous mausoleum that adjoinsS. Lorenzo and is still being enriched with precious marbles. Such is an outline of the history of this wonderful family, and weleave their ancient home, built by the greatest and wisest of them, with mixed feelings of admiration and pity. They were seldom lovable;they were often despicable; but where they were great they werevery great indeed. A Latin inscription in the courtyard reminds thetraveller of the distinction which the house possesses, calling itthe home not only of princes but of knowledge herself and a treasuryof the arts. But Florence, although it bought the palace from theRiccardi family a century and more ago, has never cared to give itback its rightful name. CHAPTER VI S. Lorenzo and Michelangelo A forlorn façade--The church of the Medici--Cosimo'sparents' tomb--Donatello's cantoria and pulpits--Brunelleschi'ssacristy--Donatello again--The palace of the dead Grand Dukes--Costlyintarsia--Michelangelo's sacristy--A weary Titan's life--The victimof capricious pontiffs--The Medici tombs--Mementi mori--The CasaBuonarroti--Brunelleschi's cloisters--A model library. Architecturally S. Lorenzo does not attract as S. Croce and S. MariaNovella do; but certain treasures of sculpture make it unique. Yet itis a cool scene of noble grey arches, and the ceiling is very happilypicked out with gold and colour. Savonarola preached some of his mostimportant sermons here; here Lorenzo the Magnificent was married. The façade has never yet been finished: it is just ragged brickworkwaiting for its marble, and likely to wait, although such expenditureon marble is going on within a few yards of it as makes one gasp. Notvery far away, in the Via Ghibellina, is a house which contains somerough plans by a master hand for this façade, drawn some four hundredyears ago--the hand of none other than Michelangelo, whose schemewas to make it not only a wonder of architecture but a wonder alsoof statuary, the façade having many niches, each to be filled witha sacred figure. But Michelangelo always dreamed on a scale utterlydisproportionate to the foolish little span of life allotted to usand the S. Lorenzo façade was never even begun. The piazza which these untidy bricks overlook is now given up to stallsand is the centre of the cheap clothing district. Looking diagonallyacross it from the church one sees the great walls of the courtyardof what is now the Riccardi palace, but was in the great days theMedici palace; and at the corner, facing the Borgo S. Lorenzo, isGiovanni delle Bande Nere, in stone, by the impossible Bandinelli, looking at least twenty years older than he ever lived to be. S. Lorenzo was a very old church in the time of Giovanni de' Medici, the first great man of the family, and had already been restoredonce, in the eleventh century, but it was his favourite church, chosen by him for his own resting-place, and he spent great sumsin improving it. All this with the assistance of Brunelleschi, whois responsible for the interior as we now see it, and would, had helived, have completed the façade. After Giovanni came Cosimo, who alsodevoted great sums to the glory of this church, not only assistingBrunelleschi with his work but inducing Donatello to lavish his geniusupon it; and the church was thus established as the family vault ofthe Medici race. Giovanni lies here; Cosimo lies here; and Piero;while Lorenzo the Magnificent and Giuliano and certain descendantswere buried in the Michelangelo sacristy, and all the Grand Dukes inthe ostentatious chapel behind the altar. Cosimo is buried beneath the floor in front of the high altar, in obedience to his wish, and by the special permission of theRoman Church; and in the same vault lies Donatello. Cosimo, whowas buried with all simplicity on August 22nd, 1464, in his lastillness recommended Donatello, who was then seventy-eight, to his sonPiero. The old sculptor survived his illustrious patron and friendonly two and a half years, declining gently into the grave, and hisbody was brought here in December, 1466. A monument to his memorywas erected in the church in 1896. Piero (the Gouty), who surviveduntil 1469, lies close by, his bronze monument, with that of hisbrother, being that between the sacristy and the adjoining chapel, in an imposing porphyry and bronze casket, the work of Verrocchio, oneof the richest and most impressive of all the memorial sculptures ofthe Renaissance. The marble pediment is supported by four tortoises, such as support the monoliths in the Piazza S. Maria Novella. Theiron rope work that divides the sacristy from the chapel is a marvelof workmanship. But we go too fast: the church before the sacristy, and the glories ofthe church are Donatello's. We have seen his cantoria in the Museum ofthe Cathedral. Here is another, not so riotous and jocund in spirit, but in its own way hardly less satisfying. The Museum cantoria hasthe wonderful frieze of dancing figures; this is an exercise inmarble intarsia. It has the same row of pillars with little specksof mosaic gold; but its beauty is that of delicate proportions andsoft tones. The cantoria is in the left aisle, in its original place;the two bronze pulpits are in the nave. These have a double interestas being not only Donatello's work but his latest work. They wereincomplete at his death, and were finished by his pupil Bertoldo(1410-1491), and since, as we shall see, Bertoldo became the master ofMichelangelo, when he was a lad of fifteen and Bertoldo an old man ofeighty, these pulpits may be said to form a link between the two greatS. Lorenzo sculptors. How fine and free and spirited Bertoldo couldbe, alone, we shall see at the Bargello. The S. Lorenzo pulpits arevery difficult to study: nothing wants a stronger light than a bronzerelief, and in Florence students of bronze reliefs are accustomedto it, since the most famous of all--the Ghiberti doors--are in theopen air. Only in course of time can one discern the scenes here. Theleft pulpit is the finer, for it contains the "Crucifixion" and the"Deposition, " which to me form the most striking of the panels. The other piece of sculpture in the church itself is a ciboriumby Desiderio da Settignano, in the chapel at the end of theright transept--an exquisite work by this rare and playful anddistinguished hand. It is fitting that Desiderio should be here, forhe was Donatello's favourite pupil. The S. Lorenzo ciborium is whollycharming, although there is a "Deposition" upon it; the little Boy isadorable; but one sees it with the greatest difficulty owing to thecrowded state of the altar and the dim light. The altar picture inthe Martelli chapel, where the sympathetic Donatello monument (in thesame medium as his "Annunciation" at S. Croce) is found--on the way tothe Library--is by Lippo Lippi, and is notable for the pretty Virginreceiving the angel's news. There is nice colour in the predella. As I have said in the first chapter, we are too prone to ignore thearchitect. We look at the jewels and forget the casket. Brunelleschi isa far greater maker of Florence than either Donatello or Michelangelo;but one thinks of him rather as an abstraction than a man or forgetshim altogether. Yet the S. Lorenzo sacristy is one of the few perfectthings in the world. What most people, however, remember is its tombs, its doors, and its reliefs; the proportions escape them. I think itsshallow easy dome beyond description beautiful. Brunelleschi, who hadan investigating genius, himself painted the quaint constellations inthe ceiling over the altar. At the Pazzi chapel we shall find similararchitecture; but there extraneous colour was allowed to come in. Heresuch reliefs as were admitted are white too. The tomb under the great marble and porphyry table in the centre isthat of Giovanni di Bicci, the father, and Piccarda, the mother, ofCosimo Pater, and is usually attributed to Buggiano, the adopted sonof Brunelleschi, but other authorities give it either to Donatelloalone or to Donatello with Michelozzo: both from the evidence ofthe design and because it is unlikely that Cosimo would ask any oneelse than one of these two friends of his to carry out a commissionso near his heart. The table is part of the scheme and not a chancecovering. I think the porphyry centre ought to be movable, so thatthe beautiful flying figures on the sarcophagus could be seen. ButDonatello's most striking achievement here is the bronze doors, whichare at once so simple and so strong and so surprising by the activityof the virile and spirited holy men, all converting each other, thereondepicted. These doors could not well be more different from Ghiberti's, in the casting of which Donatello assisted; those in such high relief, these so low; those so fluid and placid, and these so vigorous. Donatello presides over this room (under Brunelleschi). The vivacious, speaking terra-cotta bust of the young S. Lorenzo on the altar ishis; the altar railing is probably his; the frieze of terra-cottacherubs may be his; the four low reliefs in the spandrels, which itis so difficult to discern but which photographs prove to be wonderfulscenes in the life of S. John the Evangelist--so like, as one peers upat them, plastic Piranesis, with their fine masonry--are his. The otherreliefs are Donatello's too; but the lavabo in the inner sacristy isVerrocchio's, and Verrocchio's tomb of Piero can never be overlookedeven amid such a wealth of the greater master's work. From this fascinating room--fascinating both in itself and in itspossessions--we pass, after distributing the necessary largesse tothe sacristan, to a turnstile which admits, on payment of a lira, to the Chapel of the Princes and to Michelangelo's sacristy. Here iscontrast, indeed: the sacristy, austere and classic, and the chapela very exhibition building of floridity and coloured ornateness, dating from the seventeenth century and not finished yet. In payingthe necessary fee to see these buildings one thinks again what thefeelings of Giovanni and Cosimo and Lorenzo the Magnificent, andeven of Cosimo I, all such generous patrons of Florence, would be, if they could see the present feverish collection of lire in theirbeautiful city. Of the Chapel of the Princes I have little to say. To pass fromMichelangelo's sacristy to this is an error; see it, if see it youmust, first. While the façade of S. Lorenzo is still neglected and thecornice of Brunelleschi's dome is still unfinished, this lapidary'sshow-room is being completed at a cost of millions of lire. Ever since1888 has the floor been in progress, and there are many years' workyet. An enthusiastic custodian gave me a list of the stones which wereused in the designs of the coats of arms of Tuscan cities, of whichthat of Fiesole is the most attractive:--Sicily jasper, French jasper, Tuscany jasper, petrified wood, white and yellow, Corsican granite, Corsican jasper, Oriental alabaster, French marble, lapis lazuli, verde antico, African marble, Siena marble, Carrara marble, rose agate, mother of pearl, and coral. The names of the Medici are in porphyryand ivory. It is all very marvellous and occasionally beautiful; but. .. This pretentious building was designed by a natural son of CosimoI in 1604, and was begun as the state mausoleum of the Grand Dukes;and all lie here. All the Grand Duchesses too, save Bianca Capella, wife of Francis I, who was buried none knows where. It is strange torealize as one stands here that this pavement covers all those ladies, buried in their wonderful clothes. We shall see Eleanor of Toledo, wife of Cosimo I, in Bronzino's famous picture at the Uffizi, in anamazing brocaded dress: it is that dress in which she reposes beneathus! They had their jewels too, and each Grand Duke his crown andsceptre; but these, with one or two exceptions, were stolen duringthe French occupation of Tuscany, 1801-1814. Only two of the GrandDukes have their statues--Ferdinand I and Cosimo II--and the Medicino longer exist in the Florentine memory; and yet the quiet brickfloor is having all this money squandered on it to superimpose costlymarbles which cannot matter to anybody. Michelangelo's chapel, called the New Sacristy, was begun for Leo Xand finished for Giulio de' Medici, illegitimate son of the murderedGiuliano and afterwards Pope Clement VII. Brunelleschi's designfor the Old Sacristy was followed but made more severe. This, onewould feel to be the very home of dead princes even if there were nostatues. The only colours are the white of the walls and the brownof the pillars and windows; the dome was to have been painted, butit fortunately escaped. The contrast between Michelangelo's dome and Brunelleschi's iscomplete--Brunelleschi's so suave and gentle in its rise, with itsgrey lines to help the eye, and this soaring so boldly to its lantern, with its rigid device of dwindling squares. The odd thing is thatwith these two domes to teach him better the designer of the Chapelof the Princes should have indulged in such floridity. Such is the force of the architecture in the sacristy that one isprofoundly conscious of being in melancholy's most perfect home;and the building is so much a part of Michelangelo's life and itcontains such marvels from his hand that I choose it as a placeto tell his story. Michelangelo Buonarroti was born on March 6th, 1475, at Caprese, of which town his father was Podestà. At that timeBrunelleschi had been dead twenty-nine years, Fra Angelico twentyyears, Donatello nine years, Leonardo da Vinci was twenty-three yearsold, and Raphael was not yet born. Lorenzo the Magnificent had beenon what was virtually the throne of Florence since 1469 and was ayoung man of twenty-six. For foster-mother the child had the wifeof a stone-mason at Settignano, whither the family soon moved, andMichelangelo used to say that it was with her milk that he imbibedthe stone-cutting art. It was from the air too, for Settignano'sprincipal industry was sculpture. The village being only three milesfrom Florence, from it the boy could see the city very much as we seeit now--its Duomo, its campanile, with the same attendant spires. Hewas sent to Florence to school and intended for either the wool or silktrade, as so many Florentines were; but displaying artistic ability, he induced his father to apprentice him, at the age of thirteen, toa famous goldsmith and painter of Florence who had a busy atelier--noother than Domenico Ghirlandaio, who was then a man of thirty-nine. Michelangelo remained with him for three years, and although hispower and imagination were already greater than his master's, helearned much, and would never have made his Sixtine Chapel frescoeswith the ease he did but for this early grounding. For Ghirlandaio, although not of the first rank of painters in genius, was pre-eminentlythere in thoroughness, while he was good for the boy too in spirit, having a large way with him. The first work of Ghirlandaio whichthe boy saw in the making was the beautiful "Adoration of the Magi, "in the Church of the Spedale degli Innocenti, completed in 1488, andthe S. Maria Novella frescoes, and it is reasonable to suppose thathe helped with the frescoes in colour grinding, even if he did not, as some have said, paint with his own hand the beggar sitting on thesteps in the scene representing the "Presentation of the Virgin". Thathe was already clever with his pencil, we know, for he had made somecaricatures and corrected a drawing or two. The three years with Ghirlandaio were reduced eventually to one, theboy having the good fortune to be chosen as one of enough promise to beworth instruction, both by precept and example, in the famous Medicigarden. Here he was more at home than in a painting room, for plasticart was his passion, and not only had Lorenzo the Magnificent gatheredtogether there many of those masterpieces of ancient sculpture which weshall see at the Uffizi, but Bertoldo, the aged head of this informalschool, was the possessor of a private collection of Donatellos andother Renaissance work of extraordinary beauty and worth. Donatello'sinfluence on the boy held long enough for him to make the low reliefof the Madonna, much in his style, which is now preserved in theCasa Buonarroti, while the plaque of the battle of the Centaurs andLapithae which is also there shows Bertoldo's influence. The boy's first encounter with Lorenzo occurred while he was modellingthe head of an aged faun. His magnificent patron stopped to watch him, pointing out that so old a creature would probably not have such afine set of teeth, and Michelangelo, taking the hint, in a moment hadnot only knocked out a tooth or two but--and here his observationtold--hollowed the gums and cheeks a little in sympathy. Lorenzowas so pleased with his quickness and skill that he received himinto his house as the companion of his three sons: of Piero, whowas so soon and so disastrously to succeed his father, but was now ahigh-spirited youth; of Giovanni, who, as Pope Leo X many years after, was to give Michelangelo the commission for this very sacristy; andof Giuliano, who lies beneath one of the tombs. As their companionhe enjoyed the advantage of sharing their lessons under Poliziano, the poet, and of hearing the conversation of Pico della Mirandola, who was usually with Lorenzo; and to these early fastidious andintellectual surroundings the artist owed much. That he read much, we know, the Bible and Dante being constantcompanions; and we know also that in addition to modelling and copyingunder Bertoldo, he was assiduous in studying Masaccio's frescoes atthe church of the Carmine across the river, which had become a schoolof painting. It was there that his fellow-pupil, Pietro Torrigiano, who was always his enemy and a bully, broke his nose with one blowand flew to Rome from the rage of Lorenzo. It was when Michelangelo was seventeen that Lorenzo died, at the earlyage of forty-two, and although the garden still existed and the Medicipalace was still open to the youth, the spirit had passed. Piero, whosucceeded his father, had none of his ability or sagacity, and in twoyears was a refugee from the city, while the treasures of the gardenwere disposed by auction, and Michelangelo, too conspicuous as a Mediciprotégé to be safe, hurried away to Bologna. He was now nineteen. Of his travels I say nothing here, for we must keep to Florence, whither he thought it safe to return in 1495. The city was now governedby the Great Council and the Medici banished. Michelangelo remainedonly a brief time and then went to Rome, where he made his first Pietà, at which he was working during the trial and execution of Savonarola, whom he admired and reverenced, and where he remained until 1501, when, aged twenty-six, he returned to Florence to do some of his mostfamous work. The Medici were still in exile. It was in August, 1501, that the authorities of the cathedral askedMichelangelo to do what he could with a great block of marble ontheir hands, from which he carved that statue of David of which Itell the story in chapter XVI. This established his pre-eminence asa sculptor. Other commissions for statues poured in, and in 1504 hewas invited to design a cartoon for the Palazzo Vecchio, to accompanyone by Leonardo, and a studio was given him in the Via Guelfa forthe purpose. This cartoon, when finished, so far established himalso as the greatest of painters that the Masaccios in the Carminewere deserted by young artists in order that this might be studiedinstead. The cartoon, as I relate in the chapter on the PalazzoVecchio, no longer exists. The next year, 1505, Michelangelo, nearing his thirtieth birthday, returned to Rome and entered upon the second and tragic period of hislife, for he arrived there only to receive the order for the Juliustomb which poisoned his remaining years, and of which more is saidin the chapter on the Accademia, where we see so many vestiges of itboth in marble and plaster. But I might remark here that this vainand capricious pontiff, whose pride and indecision robbed the worldof no one can ever say what glorious work from Michelangelo's hand, is the benevolent-looking old man whose portrait by Raphael is inthe Pitti and Uffizi in colour, in the Corsini Palace in charcoal, and again in our own National Gallery in colour. Of Michelangelo at Rome and Carrara, whither he went to superintendin person the quarrying of the marble that was to be transferred tolife and where he had endless vexations and mortifications, I saynothing. Enough that the election of his boy friend Giovanni de'Medici as Pope Leo X in 1513 brought him again to Florence, the Popehaving a strong wish that Michelangelo should complete the façade ofthe Medici family church, S. Lorenzo, where we now are. As we know, the scheme was not carried out, but in 1520 the Pope substitutedanother and more attractive one: namely, a chapel to contain thetombs not only of his father the Magnificent, and his uncle, who hadbeen murdered in the Duomo many years before, but also his nephewPiero de' Medici, Duke of Urbino, who had just died, in 1519, andhis younger brother (and Michelangelo's early playmate) Giuliano de'Medici, Duke of Nemours, who had died in 1516. These were not Mediciof the highest class, but family pride was strong. It is, however, odd that no memorial of Piero di Lorenzo de' Medici, who had beendrowned at the age of twenty-two in 1503, was required; perhaps itmay have been that since it was Piero's folly that had brought theMedici into such disgrace in 1494, the less thought of him the better. Michelangelo took fire at once, and again hastened to Carrara toarrange for marble to be sent to his studio in the Via Mozzi, now theVia S. Zenobi; while the building stone was brought from Fiesole. LeoX lived only to know that the great man had begun, the new patronbeing Giulio de' Medici, natural son of the murdered Giuliano, now a cardinal, and soon, in 1523, to become Pope Clement VII. ThisPope showed deep interest in the project, but wished not only to addtombs of himself and Pope Leo X, but also to build a library for theLaurentian collection, which Michelangelo must design. A little laterhe had decided that he would prefer to lie in the choir of the church, and Leo X with him, and instead therefore of tombs Michelangelo mightmerely make a colossal statue of him to stand in the piazza before thechurch. The sculptor's temper had not been improved by his many years'experience of papal caprice, and he replied to this suggestion witha letter unique even in the annals of infuriated artists. Let thestatue be made, of course, he said, but let it be useful as well asornamental: the lower portion to be also a barber's shop, and thehead, since it would be empty, a greengrocer's. The Pope allowedhimself to be rebuked, and abandoned the statue, writing a mild andeven pathetic reply. Until 1527 Michelangelo worked away at the building and the tombs, always secretly, behind impenetrable barriers; and then came thetroubles which led to the siege of Florence, following upon thebanishment of Alessandro, Duke of Urbino, natural son of the veryLorenzo whom the sculptor was to dignify for all time. By the EmperorCharles V and Pope Clement VII the city was attacked, and Michelangelowas called away from Clement's sacristy to fortify Florence againstClement's soldiers. Part of his ramparts at S. Miniato still remain, and he strengthened all the gates; but, feeling himself slighted andhating the whole affair, he suddenly disappeared. One story is that hehid in the church tower of S. Niccolò, below what is now the Piazzalededicated to his memory. Wherever he was, he was proclaimed an outlaw, and then, on Florence finding that she could not do without him, was pardoned, and so returned, the city meanwhile having surrenderedand the Medici again being restored to power. The Pope showed either fine magnanimity or compounded with factsin the interest of the sacristy; for he encouraged Michelangelo toproceed, and the pacific work was taken up once more after the martialinterregnum, and in a desultory way he was busy at it, always secretlyand moodily, until 1533, when he tired completely and never touchedit again. A year later Clement VII died, having seen only drawingsof the tombs, if those. But though left unfinished, the sacristy is wholly satisfying--moreindeed than satisfying, conquering. Whatever help Michelangelo mayhave had from his assistants, it is known that the symbolical figureson the tombs and the two seated Medici are from his hand. Of the twofinished or practically finished tombs--to my mind as finished as theyshould be--that of Lorenzo is the finer. The presentment of Lorenzo inarmour brooding and planning is more splendid than that of Giuliano;while the old man, whose head anticipates everything that is consideredmost original in Rodin's work, is among the best of Michelangelo'sstatuary. Much speculation has been indulged in as to the meaningof the symbolism of these tombs, and having no theory of my own tooffer, I am glad to borrow Mr. Gerald S. Davies' summary from hismonograph on Michelangelo. The figure of Giuliano typifies energyand leadership in repose; while the man on his tomb typifies Day andthe woman Night, or the man Action and the woman the sleep and restthat produce Action. The figure of Lorenzo typifies Contemplation, the woman Dawn, and the man Twilight, the states which lie betweenlight and darkness, action and rest. What Michelangelo--who owednothing to any Medici save only Lorenzo the Magnificent and had seenthe best years of his life frittered away in the service of them andother proud princes--may also have intended we shall never know; buthe was a saturnine man with a long memory, and he might easily havemade the tombs a vehicle for criticism. One would not have anothertouch of the chisel on either of the symbolical male figures. Although a tomb to Lorenzo the Magnificent by Michelangelo wouldsurely have been a wonderful thing, there is something startling andarresting in the circumstance that he has none at all from any hand, but lies here unrecorded. His grandfather, in the church itself, rests beneath a plain slab, which aimed so consciously at modestyas thereby to achieve special distinction: Lorenzo, leaving no suchdirections, has nothing, while in the same room are monuments totwo common-place descendants to thrill the soul. The disparity is initself monumental. That Michelangelo's Madonna and Child are on theslab which covers the dust of Lorenzo and his brother is a chance. Thesaints on either side are S. Cosimo and S. Damian, the patron saintsof old Cosimo de' Medici, and are by Michelangelo's assistants. TheMadonna was intended for the altar of the sacristy. Into this work thesculptor put much of his melancholy and, one feels, disappointment. Theface of the Madonna is already sad and hopeless; but the Child isperhaps the most splendid and determined of any in all Renaissancesculpture. He may, if we like, symbolize the new generation that isalways deriving sustenance from the old, without care or thought ofwhat the old has to suffer; he crushes his head against his mother'sbreast in a very passion of vigorous dependence. [4] Whatever was originally intended, it is certain that in Michelangelo'ssacristy disillusionment reigns as well as death. But how beautifulit is! In a little room leading from the sacristy I was shown by a smilingcustodian Lorenzo the Magnificent's coffin, crumbling away, andphotographs of the skulls of the two brothers: Giuliano's with oneof Francesco de' Pazzi's dagger wounds in it, and Lorenzo's, ghastlyin its decay. I gave the man half a lira. While he was working on the tombs Michelangelo had undertaken now andthen a small commission, and to this period belongs the David which weshall see in the little room on the ground floor of the Bargello. In1534, when he finally abandoned the sacristy, and, leaving Florence forever, settled in Rome, the Laurentian library was only begun, and hehad little interest in it. He never saw it again. At Rome his time wasfully occupied in painting the "Last Judgment" in the Sixtine Chapel, and in various architectural works. But Florence at any rate has twomarble masterpieces that belong to the later period--the Brutus inthe Bargello and the Pietà in the Duomo, which we have seen--thatpoignantly impressive rendering of the entombment upon which the oldman was at work when he died, and which he meant for his own grave. His death came in 1564, on February 23rd, when he was nearlyeighty-nine, and his body was brought to Florence and buried amiduniversal grief in S. Croce, where it has a florid monument. Since we are considering the life of Michelangelo, I might perhapssay here a few words about his house, which is only a few minutes'distant--at No. 64 Via Ghibellina--where certain early works andpersonal relics are preserved. Michelangelo gave the house to hisnephew Leonardo; it was decorated early in the seventeenth century withscenes in the life of the master, and finally bequeathed to the cityas a heritage in 1858. It is perhaps the best example of the rapacityof the Florentines; for notwithstanding that it was left freely inthis way a lira is charged for admission. The house contains morecollateral curiosities, as they might be called, than those in thedirect line; but there are architectural drawings from the wonderfulhand, colour drawings of a Madonna, a few studies, and two early piecesof sculpture--the battle of the Lapithae and Centaurs, a relief markedby tremendous vigour and full of movement, and a Madonna and Child, also in relief, with many marks of greatness upon it. In a recessin Room IV are some personal relics of the artist, which his greatnephew, the poet, who was named after him, began to collect early inthe seventeenth century. As a whole the house is disappointing. Upstairs have been arranged a quantity of prints and drawingsillustrating the history of Florence. The S. Lorenzo cloisters may be entered either from a side door inthe church close to the Old Sacristy or from the piazza. Although anofficial in uniform keeps the piazza door, they are free. Brunelleschiis again the architect, and from the loggia at the entrance to thelibrary you see most acceptably the whole of his cathedral dome andhalf of Giotto's tower. It is impossible for Florentine cloisters--orindeed any cloisters--not to have a certain beauty, and these areunusually charming and light, seen both from the loggia and the ground. Michelangelo's Biblioteca Laurenziana, which leads from them, is one of the most perfect of sombre buildings, the very home ofwell-ordered scholarship. The staircase is impressive, although perhapsa little too severe; the long room could not be more satisfying tothe eye. Michelangelo died before it was finished, but it is his indesign, even to the ceiling and cases for MSS. In which the libraryis so rich, and the rich red wood ceiling. Vasari, Michelangelo'spupil and friend and the biographer to whom we are so much indebted, carried on the work. His scheme of windows has been upset on theside opposite the cloisters by the recent addition of a rotundaleading from the main room. If ever rectangular windows were moreexquisitely and nobly proportioned I should like to see them. Thelibrary is free for students, and the attendants are very good incalling stray visitors' attention to illuminated missals, old MSS. , early books and so forth. One of Galileo's fingers, stolen from hisbody, used to be kept here, in a glass case, and may be here still;but I did not see it. I saw, however, the portraits, in an old volume, of Petrarch and his Laura. This wonderful collection was begun by Cosimo de' Medici; othersadded to it until it became one of the most valuable in the world, not, however, without various vicissitudes incident to any Florentineinstitution: while one of its most cherished treasures, the Virgilof the fourth or fifth century, was even carried to Paris by Napoleonand not returned until the great year of restoration, 1816. Among theholograph MSS. Is Cellini's "Autobiography". The library, in time, after being confiscated by the Republic and sold to the monks ofS. Marco, again passed into the possession of a Medici, Leo X, sonof Lorenzo the Magnificent, and then of Clement VII, and he it waswho commissioned Michelangelo to house it with dignity. An old daily custom in the cloisters of S. Lorenzo was the feeding ofcats; but it has long since been dropped. If you look at Mr. Hewlett's"Earthwork out of Tuscany" you will find an entertaining descriptionof what it used to be like. CHAPTER VII Or San Michele and the Palazzo Vecchio The little Bigallo--The Misericordia--Or San Michele--AndreaOrcagna--The Tabernacle--Old Glass--A company of stonesaints--Donatello's S. George--Dante conferences--The Guilds ofFlorence--The Palazzo Vecchio--Two Towers--Bandinelli's group--TheMarzocco--The Piazza della Signoria--Orcagna's Loggia--Celliniand Cosimo--The Perseus--Verrocchio's dolphin--The Great CouncilHall--Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo's cartoons--Bandinelli'smalice--The Palazzo Vecchio as a home--Two cells and the bell ofindependence. Let us now proceed along the Via Calzaioli (which means street ofthe stocking-makers), running away from the Piazza del Duomo tothe Piazza della Signoria. The fascinatingly pretty building atthe corner, opposite Pisano's Baptistery doors, is the Bigallo, in the loggia of which foundling children used to be displayed inthe hope that passers-by might pity them sufficiently to make thempresents or even adopt them; but this custom continues no longer. TheBigallo was designed, it is thought, by Orcagna, and it is worth theminutest study. The Company of the Bigallo, which is no longer an active force, wasone of the benevolent societies of old Florence. But the greatestof these societies, still busy and merciful, is the Misericordia, whose head-quarters are just across the Via Calzaioli, in the piazza, facing the campanile, a company of Florentines pledged at a moment'snotice, no matter on what they may be engaged, to assist in anycharitable work of necessity. For the most part they carry ambulancesto the scenes of accident and perform the last offices for the deadin the poorer districts. When on duty they wear black robes andhoods. Their headquarters comprise a chapel, with an altar by Andreadella Robbia, and a statue of the patron saint of the Misericordia, S. Sebastian. But their real patron saint is their founder, a commonporter named Pietro Borsi. In the thirteenth century it was the customfor the porters and loafers connected with the old market to meetin a shelter here and pass the time away as best they could. Borsi, joining them, was distressed to find how unprofitable were the hours, and he suggested the formation of a society to be of some real use, the money to support it to be obtained by fines in payment for oathsand blasphemies. A litter or two were soon bought and the machinerystarted. The name was the Company of the Brothers of Mercy. That wasin 1240 to 1250. To-day no Florentine is too grand to take his part, and at the head of the porter's band of brethren is the King. Passing along the Via Calzaioli we come on the right to a noble squarebuilding with statues in its niches--Or San Michele, which stands onthe site of the chapel of San Michele in Orto. San Michele in Orto, or more probably in Horreo (meaning either in the garden or in thegranary), was once part of a loggia used as a corn market, in whichwas preserved a picture by Ugolino da Siena representing the Virgin, and this picture had the power of working miracles. Early in thefourteenth century the loggia was burned down but the picture wassaved (or quickly replaced), and a new building on a much larger andmore splendid scale was made for it, none other than Or San Michele, the chief architect being Taddeo Gaddi, Giotto's pupil and laterthe constructor of the Ponte Vecchio. Where the picture then was, Icannot say--whether inside the building or out--but the principal useof the building was to serve as a granary. After 1348, when Florencewas visited by that ravaging plague which Boccaccio describes insuch gruesome detail at the beginning of the "Decameron" and whichsent his gay company of ladies and gentlemen to the Villa Palmierito take refuge in story telling, and when this sacred picture wasmore than commonly busy and efficacious, it was decided to applythe enormous sums of money given to the shrine from gratitude inbeautifying the church still more, and chiefly in providing a casketworthy of holding such a pictorial treasure. Hence came about thenoble edifice of to-day. A man of universal genius was called in to execute the tabernacle:Andrea Orcagna, a pupil probably of Andrea Pisano, and also muchinfluenced by Giotto, whom though he had not known he idolized, and one who, like Michelangelo later, was not only a painter andsculptor but an architect and a poet. Orcagna, or, to give him hisright name, Andrea di Cione, for Orcagna was an abbreviation ofArcagnolo, flourished in the middle of the fourteenth century. Amonghis best-known works in painting are the Dantesque frescoes in theStrozzi chapel at S. Maria Novella, and that terrible allegory ofDeath and Judgment in the Campo Santo at Pisa, in which the gay ridingparty come upon the three open graves. Orcagna put all his strengthinto the tabernacle of Or San Michele, which is a most sumptuous, beautiful and thoughtful shrine, yet owing to the darkness of thechurch is almost invisible. Guides, it is true, will emerge from thegloom and hold lighted tapers to it, but a right conception of it isimpossible. The famous miraculous picture over the altar is notablerather for its properties than for its intrinsic beauty; it is thepanels of the altar, which contain Orcagna's most exquisite work, representing scenes in the life of the Virgin, with emblematicalfigures interspersed, that one wishes to see. Only the back, however, can be seen really well, and this only when a door opposite to it--inthe Via Calzaioli--is opened. It should always be open, with a grilleacross it, that passers-by might have constant sight of this almostunknown Florentine treasure. It is in the relief of the death of theVirgin on the back that--on the extreme right--Orcagna introducedhis own portrait. The marble employed is of a delicate softness, andOrcagna had enough of Giotto's tradition to make the Virgin a realityand to interest Her, for example, as a mother in the washing of HerBaby, as few painters have done, and in particular, as, accordingto Ruskin, poor Ghirlandaio could not do in his fresco of the birthof the Virgin Herself. It was Orcagna's habit to sign his sculpture"Andrea di Cione, painter, " and his paintings "Andrea di Cione, sculptor, " and thus point his versatility. By this tabernacle, byhis Pisan fresco, and by the designs of the Loggia de' Lanzi and theBigallo (which are usually given to him), he takes his place amongthe most interesting and various of the forerunners of the Renaissance. Within Or San Michele you learn the secret of the stoned-up windowswhich one sees with regret from without. Each, or nearly each, hasan altar against it. What the old glass was like one can divine fromthe lovely and sombre top lights in exquisite patterns that are left;that on the centre of the right wall of the church, as one enters, having jewels of green glass as lovely as any I ever saw. But blues, purples, and reds predominate. The tabernacle apart, the main appeal of Or San Michele is the statuaryand stone-work of the exterior; for here we find the early mastersat their best. The building being the head-quarters of the twelveFlorentine guilds, the statues and decorations were commissioned bythem. It is as though our City companies should unite in beautifyingthe Guildhall. Donatello is the greatest artist here, and it wasfor the Armourers that he made his S. George, which stands now, ashe carved it in marble, in the Bargello, but has a bronze substitutein its original niche, below which is a relief of the slaying of thedragon from Donatello's chisel. Of this glorious S. George more willbe said later. But I may remark now that in its place here it instantlyproves the modernity and realistic vigour of its sculptor. Fine thoughthey be, all the other statues of this building are conventional;they carry on a tradition of religious sculpture such as NiccolòPisano respected, many years earlier, when he worked at the Pisanpulpit. But Donatello's S. George is new and is as beautiful as aGreek god, with something of real human life added. Donatello (with Michelozzo) also made the exquisite border of theniche in the Via Calzaioli façade, in which Christ and S. Thomas nowstand. He was also to have made the figures (for the Merchants' Guild)but was busy elsewhere, and they fell to Verrocchio, of whom also weshall have much to see and say at the Bargello, and to my mind theyare the most beautiful of all. The John the Baptist (made for theCloth-dealers), also on this façade, is by Ghiberti of the Baptisterygates. On the façade of the Via de' Lamberti is Donatello's superbS. Mark (for the Joiners), which led to Michelangelo's criticism thathe had never seen a man who looked more virtuous, and if S. Markwere really like that he would believe all his words. "Why don'tyou speak to me?" he also said to this statue, as Donatello hadsaid to the Zuccone. Higher on this façade is Luca della Robbia'sfamous arms of the Silk-weavers, one of the perfect things. Lucaalso made the arms of the Guild of Merchants, with its Florentinefleur-de-lis in the midst. For the rest, Ghiberti's S. Stephen, and Ghiberti and Michelozzo's S. Matthew, on the entrance wall, are the most remarkable. The blacksmith relief is very lively andthe blacksmith's saint a noble figure. The little square reliefs let into the wall at intervalsare often charming, and the stone-work of the windows is verylovely. In fact, the four walls of this fortress church are almostinexhaustible. Within, its vaulted roof is so noble, its proportionsso satisfying. One should often sit quietly here, in the gloom, and do nothing. The little building just across the way was the Guild House of theArte della Lana, or Wool-combers, and is now the head-quarters ofthe Italian Dante Society, who hold a conference every Thursdayin the large room over Or San Michele, gained by the flyingbuttress-bridge. The dark picture on the outer wall is the veryMadonna to which, when its position was at the Mercato Vecchio, condemned criminals used to pray on their way to execution. Before we leave Or San Michele and the Arte della Lana, a word onthe guilds of Florence is necessary, for at a period in Florentinehistory between, say, the middle of the thirteenth century and thebeginning of the fifteenth, they were the very powerful controllersof the domestic affairs of the city; and it is possible that it wouldhave been better for the Florentines had they continued to be so. ForFlorence was essentially mercantile and the guilds were composed ofbusiness men; and it is natural that business men should know betterthan noblemen what a business city needed. They were divided intomajor guilds, chief of which were the woollen merchants--the Artedella Lana--and the silk merchants--the Calimala--and it was theirpride to put their riches at the city's service. Thus, the Arte dellaLana had charge of the building of the cathedral. Each of the majorguilds provided a Prior, and the Priors elected the Signoria, whogoverned the city. It is one of the principal charges that is broughtagainst Cosimo de' Medici that he broke the power of the guilds. Returning to the Via Calzaioli, and turning to the right, we comevery quickly to the Piazza della Signoria, and see before us, diagonally across it, the Loggia de' Lanzi and the Palazzo Vecchio, with the gleaming, gigantic figure of Michelangelo's David againstthe dark gateway. This, more than the Piazza del Duomo, is the centreof Florence. The Palazzo Vecchio was for centuries called the Signoria, being thehome of the Gonfalonier of Florence and the Signoria who assistedhis councils. It was begun by Arnolfo, the architect of the Duomo andS. Croce, at the end of the thirteenth century, that being, as we haveseen, a period of great prosperity and ambition in Florence, but manyalterations and additions were made--by Michelozzo, Cronaca, Vasari, and others--to bring it to what it now is. After being the sceneof many riots, executions, and much political strife and dubiety, it became a ducal palace in 1532, and is now a civic building andshow-place. In the old days the Palazzo had a ringhiera, or platform, in front of it, from which proclamations were made. To know whatthis was like one has but to go to S. Trinità on a very fine morningand look at Ghirlandaio's fresco of the granting of the charter toS. Francis. The scene, painted in 1485, includes not only the Signoriabut the Loggia de' Lanzi (then the Loggia dell' Orcagna)--both beforeany statues were set up. Every façade of the Palazzo Vecchio is splendid. I cannot say whichI admire more--that which one sees from the Loggia de' Lanzi, withits beautiful coping of corbels, at once so heavy and so light, withcoloured escutcheons between them, or that in the Via de' Gondi, withits fine jumble of old brickwork among the stones. The Palazzo Vecchiois one of the most resolute and independent buildings in the world;and it had need to be strong, for the waves of Florentine revolt werealways breaking against it. The tower rising from this square fortresshas at once grace and strength and presents a complete contrast toGiotto's campanile; for Giotto's campanile is so light and delicate andreasonable and this tower of the Signoria so stern and noble. Thereis a difference as between a beautiful woman and a powerful man. Inthe functions of the two towers--the dominating towers of Florence--isa wide difference also, for the campanile calls to prayer, while foryears the sombre notes of the great Signoria bell--the Vacca--rang outonly to bid the citizens to conclave or battle or to sound an alarm. It was this Vacca wich (with others) the brave Piero Capponithreatened to ring when Charles VIII wished, in 1494, to force adisgraceful treaty on the city. The scene was the Medici Palace inthe Via Larga. The paper was ready for signature and Capponi wouldnot sign. "Then I must bid my trumpets blow, " said Charles. "If yousound your trumpets, " Capponi replied, "we will ring our bells;"and the King gave way, for he knew that his men had no chance in thiscity if it rose suddenly against them. But the glory of the Palazzo Vecchio tower--afer its proportions--isthat brilliant inspiration of the architect which led him, so tospeak, to begin again by setting the four columns on the top of thesolid portion. These pillars are indescribably right: so solidand yet so light, so powerful and yet so comely. Their duty wasto support the bells, and particularly the Vacca, when he rockedhis gigantic weight of green bronze to and fro to warn the city. Seen from a distance the columns are always beautiful; seen closeby they are each a tower of comfortable strength. And how the windblows through them from the Apennines! The David on the left of the Palazzo Vecchio main door is only a copy. The original stood there until 1873, when, after three hundred andsixty-nine years, it was moved to a covered spot in the Accademia, as we shall there see and learn its history. If we want to know whatthe Palazzo Vecchio looked like at the time David was placed there, a picture by Piero di Cosimo in our National Gallery tells us, forhe makes it the background of his portrait of Ferrucci, No. 895. The group on the right represents Hercules and Cacus, [5] andis by Baccio Bandinelli (1485-1560), a coarse and offensive man, jealous of most people and particularly of Michelangelo, to whom, but for his displeasing Pope Clement VII, the block of marble fromwhich the Hercules was carved would have been given. Bandinelli inhis delight at obtaining it vowed to surpass that master's David, and those who want to know what Florence thought of his effort shouldconsult the amusing and malicious pages of Cellini's Autobiography. On its way to Bandinelli's studio the block fell into the Arrio, andit was a joke of the time that it had drowned itself to avoid its fateat the sculptor's hands. Even after he had half done it, there was amoment when Michelangelo had an opportunity of taking over the stoneand turning it into a Samson, but the siege of Florence intervened, and eventually Bandinelli had his way and the hideous thing now onview was evolved. The lion at the left end of the façade is also a copy, the originalby Donatello being in the Bargello, close by; but the pedestal isDonatello's original. This lion is the Marzocco, the legendary guardianof the Florentine republic, and it stood here for four centuries andmore, superseding one which was kissed as a sign of submission bythousands of Pisan prisoners in 1364. The Florentine fleur-de-lis onthe pediment is very beautiful. The same lion may be seen in iron onhis staff at the top of the Palazzo Vecchio tower, and again on theBargello, bravely flourishing his lily against the sky. The great fountain with its bronze figures at this corner is byBartolommeo Ammanati, a pupil of Bandinelli, and the statue of CosimoI is by Gian Bologna, who was the best of the post-Michelangelosculptors and did much good work in Florence, as we shall see at theBargello and in the Boboli Gardens. He studied under Michelangeloin Rome. Though born a Fleming and called a Florentine, his greatfountain at Bologna, which is really a fine thing, has identified hisfame with that city. Had not Ammanati's design better pleased CosimoI, the Bologna fountain would be here, for it was designed for thispiazza. Gian's best-known work is the Flying Mercury in the Bargello, which we have seen, on mantelpieces and in shop windows, everywhere;but what is considered his masterpiece is over there, in the Loggia de'Lanzi, the very beautiful building on the right of the Palazzo, the"Rape of the Sabines, " a group which, to me, gives no pleasure. Thebronze reliefs under the Cosimo statue--this Cosimo being, of course, far other than Cosimo de' Medici, Father of his Country: CosimoI of Tuscany, who insisted upon a crown and reigned from 1537 to1575--represents his assumption of rule on the death of Alessandro in1537; his triumphant entry into Siena when he conquered it and absorbedit; and his reception of the rank of Grand Duke. Of Cosimo (whom wemet in Chapter V) more will be said when we enter the Palazzo Vecchio. Between this statue and the Loggia de' Lanzi is a bronze tablet letinto the paving which tells us that it was on this very spot, in 1498, that Savonarola and two of his companions were put to death. Theancient palace on the Duomo side of the piazza is attributed indesign to Raphael, who, like most of the great artists of his time, was also an architect and was the designer of the Palazzo Pandolfiniin the Via San Gallo, No. 74. The Palazzo we are now admiring forits blend of massiveness and beauty is the Uguccione, and anybodywho wishes may probably have a whole floor of it to-day for a fewshillings a week. The building which completes the piazza on theright of us, with coats of arms on its façade, is now given to theBoard of Agriculture and has been recently restored. It was oncea Court of Justice. The great building at the opposite side of thepiazza, where the trams start, is a good example of modern Florentinearchitecture based on the old: the Palazzo Landi, built in 1871 andnow chiefly an insurance office. In London we have a more attractivethough smaller derivative of the great days of Florentine building, in Standen's wool shop in Jermyn Street. The Piazza della Signoria has such riches that one is in danger ofneglecting some. The Palazzo Vecchio, for example, so overpowersthe Loggia de' Lanzi in size as to draw the eye from that perfectstructure. One should not allow this to happen; one should letthe Palazzo Vecchio's solid nobility wait awhile and concentrateon the beauty of Orcagna's three arches. Coming so freshly from histabernacle in Or San Michele we are again reminded of the versatilityof the early artists. This structure, originally called the Loggia de' Priori or Loggiad'Orcagna, was built in the fourteenth century as an open place forthe delivery of proclamations and for other ceremonies, and also asa shelter from the rain, the last being a purpose it still serves. Itwas here that Savonarola's ordeal by fire would have had place had itnot been frustrated. Vasari also gives Orcagna the four symbolicalfigures in the recesses in the spandrels of the arches. The Loggia, which took its new name from the Swiss lancers, or lanzi, that CosimoI kept there--he being a fearful ruler and never comfortable without abodyguard--is now a recognized place of siesta; and hither many peoplecarry their poste-restante correspondence from the neighbouring postoffice in the Uffizi to read in comfort. A barometer and thermometerare almost the only novelties that a visitor from the sixteenthcentury would notice. The statuary is both old and new; for here are genuine antiques oncein Ferdinand I's Villa Medici at Rome, and such modern masterpiecesas Donatello's Judith and Holofernes, Cellini's Perseus, and GianBologna's two muscular and restless groups. The best of the antiquesis the Woman Mourning, the fourth from the end on the left, which isa superb creation. Donatello's Judith, which gives me less pleasure than any of his work, both in the statue and in the relief, was commissioned for Cosimode' Medici, who placed it in the courtyard or garden of the Medicipalace--Judith, like David, by her brave action against a tyrant, being a champion of the Florentine republic. In 1495, after Cosimo'sworthless grandson Piero de' Medici had been expelled from Florenceand the Medici palace sacked, the statue was moved to the front of thePalazzo Vecchio, where the David now is, and an inscription placedon it describing it as a warning to all enemies of liberty. Thisposition being needed for Michelangelo's David, in 1506, Judith wasmoved to the Loggia to the place where the Sabine group now is. In1560 it took up its present position. Cellini's Perseus will not quite do, I think, after Donatello andVerrocchio; but few bronzes are more famous, and certainly of nonehas so vivacious and exciting a story been written as Cellini's own, setting forth his disappointments, mortifications, and pride inconnexion with this statue. Cellini, whatever one may think of hisveracity, is a diverting and valuable writer, and the picture ofCosimo I which he draws for us is probably very near the truth. Wesee him haughty, familiar, capricious, vain, impulsive, clear-sighted, and easily flattered; intensely pleased to be in a position to commandthe services of artists and very unwilling to pay. Cellini was a blendof lackey, child, and genius. He left Francis I in order to serveCosimo and never ceased to regret the change. The Perseus was hisgreatest accomplishment for Cosimo, and the narrative of its castingis terrific and not a little like Dumas. When it was uncovered in itspresent position all Florence flocked to the Loggia to praise it; thepoets placed commendatory sonnets on the pillars, and the sculptorpeacocked up and down in an ecstasy of triumph. Then, however, histroubles once more began, for Cosimo had the craft to force Cellinito name the price, and we see Cellini in an agony between desire forenough and fear lest if he named enough he would offend his patron. The whole book is a comedy of vanity and jealousy and Florentinevigour, with Courts as a background. It is good to read it; it isgood, having read it, to study once again the unfevered resolutefeatures of Donatello's S. George. Cellini himself we may see amongthe statues under the Uffizi and again in the place of honour (as agoldsmith) in the centre of the Ponte Vecchio. Looking at the Perseusand remembering Donatello, one realizes that what Cellini wanted wascharacter. He had temperament enough but no character. Perseus issuperb, commanding, distinguished, and one doesn't care a fig for it. On entering the Palazzo Vecchio we come instantly to one of the mostcharming things in Florence--Verrocchio's fountain--which standsin the midst of the courtyard. This adorable work--a little bronzeCupid struggling with a spouting dolphin--was made for Lorenzo de'Medici's country villa at Careggi and was brought here when thepalazzo was refurnished for Francis I, Cosimo I's son and successor, and his bride, Joanna of Austria, in 1565. Nothing could betterillustrate the accomplishment and imaginative adaptability of the greatcraftsmen of the day than the two works of Verrocchio that we havenow seen: the Christ and S. Thomas at Or San Michele, in Donatelloand Michelozzo's niche, and this exquisite fountain splashing waterso musically. Notice the rich decorations of the pillars of thiscourtyard and the rich colour and power of the pillars themselves. Thehalf-obliterated frescoes of Austrian towns on the walls were made toprevent Joanna from being homesick, but were more likely, one wouldguess, to stimulate that malady. In the left corner is the entranceto the old armoury, now empty, with openings in the walls throughwhich pieces might be discharged at various angles on any advancinghost. The groined ceiling could support a pyramid. The Palazzo Vecchio's ground floor is a series of thoroughfares inwhich people are passing continually amid huge pillars and alongdark passages; but our way is up the stone steps immediately to theleft on leaving the courtyard where Verrocchio's child eternallysmiles, for the steps take us to that vast hall designed by Cronacafor Savonarola's Great Council, which was called into being for thegovernment of Florence after the luckless Piero de' Medici had beenbanished in 1494. Here much history was made. As to its structureand its architect, Vasari, who later was called in to restore it, has a deal to say, but it is too technical for us. It was builtby Simone di Pollaiuolo, who was known as Cronaca (the Chronicler)from his vivid way of telling his adventures. Cronaca (1454-1508), who was a personal friend and devotee of Savonarola, drew up his planin consultation with Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo (although thenso young: only nineteen or twenty) and others. Its peculiarity is thatit is one of the largest rooms in existence without pillars. From thefoot of the steps to the further wall I make it fifty-eight paces, and thirty wide; and the proportions strike the eye as perfect. Thewall behind the steps is not at right angles with the other--and thismust be as peculiar as the absence of pillars. Once there were to be paintings here by the greatest of all, formasters no less than Leonardo and Michelangelo were commissioned todecorate it, each with a great historical painting: a high honourfor the youthful Michelangelo. The loss of these works is one ofthe tragedies of art. Leonardo chose for his subject the battle ofAnghiari, an incident of 1440 when the Florentines defeated Piccininoand saved their Republic from the Milanese and Visconti. But boththe cartoon and the fresco have gone for ever, and our sense of lossis not diminished by reading in Leonardo's Thoughts on Painting thedirections which he wrote for the use of artists who proposed to paintbattles: one of the most interesting and exciting pieces of writing inthe literature of art. Michelangelo's work, which never reached thewall of the room, as Leonardo's had done, was completed as a cartoonin 1504 to 1506 in his studio in the hospital of the dyers in Sant'Onofrio, which is now the Via Guelfa. The subject was also military:an incident in the long and bitter struggle between Florence and Pisa, when Sir John Hawkwood (then in the pay of the Pisans, before he cameover finally to the Florentines) attacked a body of Florentines whowere bathing in the river. The scene gave the young artist scope bothfor his power of delineating a spirited incident and for his drawingof the nude, and those who saw it said of this work that it was finerthan anything the painter ever did. While it was in progress allthe young artists came to Sant' Onofrio to study it, as they and itscreator had before flocked to the Carmine, where Masaccio's frescoeshad for three-quarters of a century been object-lessons to students. What became of the cartoon is not definitely known, but Vasari'sstory is that Bandinelli, the sculptor of the Hercules and Cacusoutside the Palazzo, who was one of the most diligent copyists of thecartoon after it was placed in a room in this building, had the keyof the door counterfeited, and, obtaining entrance during a momentof tumult, destroyed the picture. The reasons given are: (1, and avery poor one) that he desired to own the pieces; (2) that he wishedto deprive other and rival students of the advantage of copying it;(3) that he wanted Leonardo to be the only painter of the Palazzo tobe considered; and (4, and sufficient) that he hated Michelangelo. Atthis time Bandinelli could not have been more than eighteen. Vasari'sstory is uncorroborated. Leonardo's battle merely perished, being done in some fugitive medium;and the walls are now covered with the works of Vasari himselfand his pupils and do not matter, while the ceiling is a muddleof undistinguished paint. There are many statues which also do notmatter; but at the raised end is Leo X, son of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and the first Medici Pope, and at the other a colossal modern statueof Savonarola, who was in person the dominating influence here forthe years between 1494 and 1497; who is to many the central figurein the history of this building; and whose last night on earth wasspent with his companions in this very room. But to him we come inthe chapter on S. Marco. Many rooms in the Palazzo are to be seen only on special occasions, but the great hall is always accessible. Certain rooms upstairs, mostly with rich red and yellow floors, are also visible daily, allinteresting; but most notable is the Salle de Lys, with its lovely bluewalls of lilies, its glorious ceiling of gold and roses, Ghirlandaio'sfresco of S. Zenobius, and the perfect marble doorway containingthe wooden doors of Giuliano and Benedetto da Maiano, with the headsof Dante and Petrarch in intarsia. Note the figures of Charity andTemperance in the doorway and the charming youthful Baptist. In Eleanor of Toledo's dining-room there are some rich and elaborategreen jugs which I remember very clearly and also the ceiling of herworkroom with its choice of Penelope as the presiding genius. BothEleanor's chapel and that in which Savonarola prayed before hisexecution are shown. But the most popular room of all with visitors--and quite naturally--isthe little boudoiresque study of Francis I, with its voluptuousladies on the ceiling and the secret treasure-room leading from it, while on the way, just outside the door, is a convenient oublietteinto which to push any inconvenient visitor. The loggia, which Mr. Morley has painted from the Via Castellani, is also always accessible, and from it one has one of those pleasantviews of warm roofs in which Florence abounds. One of the most attractive of the smaller rooms usually on view isthat one which leads from the lily-room and contains nothing butmaps of the world: the most decorative things conceivable, next toChinese paintings. Looking naturally for Sussex on the English map, I found Winchelsey, Battel, Rye, Lewes, Sorham, Arônde, and Cicestra. From the map-room a little room is gained where the debates inthe Great Council Hall might be secretly overheard by interestedeavesdroppers, but in particular by Cosimo I. A part of the cornicehas holes in it for this purppse, but on regaining the hall itselfI found that the disparity in the pattern was perfectly evident evento my eye, so that every one in those suspicious days must have beenaware of the listener. The tower should certainly be ascended--not only for the viewand to be so near the bells and the pillars, but also for historicassociations. After a little way we come to the cell where Cosimo de'Medici, later to be the Father of his Country, was imprisoned, beforethat exile which ended in recall and triumph in 1433. This cell, although not exactly "a home from home, " is possible. What is to besaid of that other, some thousands of steps (as it seems) higher, where Savonarola was kept for forty days, varied only by intervalsof torture? For Savonarola's cell, which is very near the top, isnothing but a recess in the wall with a door to it. It cannot bemore than five feet wide and eight feet long, with an open loopholeto the wind. If a man were here for forty days and then pardoned hislife would be worth very little. A bitter eyrie from which to watchthe city one had risked all to reform. What thoughts must have beenhis in that trap! What reviews of policy! What illuminations as toFlorentine character! CHAPTER VIII The Uffizi I: The Building and the Collectors The growth of a gallery--Vasari's Passaggio--Cosimo I--FrancisI--Ferdinand I--Ferdinand II--Cosimo III--Anna Maria Ludovica de'Medici--Pietro-Leopoldo--The statues of the façade--Art, literature, arms, science, and learning--The omissions--Florentine rapacity--Anantique custom--Window views--The Uffizi drawings--The best picture. The foreigner should understand at once that any inquiries into thehistory of the Uffizi family--such as for example yield interestingresults in the case of the Pazzi and the Albizzi--are doomed tofailure; because Uffizi merely means offices. The Palazzo degliUffizi, or palace of offices, was built by Vasari, the biographer ofthe artists, for Cosimo I, who having taken the Signoria, or PalazzoVecchio, for his own home, wished to provide another building for themunicipal government. It was begun in 1560 and still so far fulfilsits original purpose as to contain the general post office, while italso houses certain Tuscan archives and the national library. A glance at Piero di Cosimo's portrait of Ferrucci in our NationalGallery will show that an ordinary Florentine street preceded theerection of the Uffizi. At that time the top storey of the building, as it now exists, was an open terrace affording a pleasant promenadefrom the Palazzo Vecchio down to the river and back to the Loggiade' Lanzi. Beneath this were studios and workrooms where Cosimo'sarmy of artists and craftsmen (with Bronzino and Cellini as the mostfamous) were kept busy; while the public offices were on the groundfloor. Then, as his family increased, Cosimo decided to move, and theincomplete and abandoned Pitti Palace was bought and finished. In 1565, as we have seen, Francis, Cosimo's son, married and was installed inthe Palazzo Vecchio, and it was then that Vasari was called upon toconstruct the Passaggio which unites the Palazzo Vecchio and the Pitti, crossing the river by the Ponte Vecchio--Cosimo's idea (borrowed itis said from Homer's description of the passage uniting the palaces ofPriam and Hector) being not only that he and his son might have accessto each other, but that in the event of danger on the other side of theriver a body of soldiers could be swiftly and secretly mobilized there. Cosimo I died in 1574, and Francis I (1574-1587) succeeded him not onlyin rule but in that patronage of the arts which was one of the finestMedicean traditions; and it was he who first thought of making theUffizi a picture gallery. To do this was simple: it merely meant theloss of part of the terrace by walling and roofing it in. FerdinandI (1587-1609) added the pretty Tribuna and other rooms, and broughthither a number of the treasures from the Villa Medici at Rome. CosimoII (1609-1621) did little, but Ferdinand II (1621-1670) completedthe roofing in of the terraces, placed there his own collection ofdrawings and a valuable collection of Venetian pictures which hehad bought, together with those that his wife Vittoria della Roverehad brought him from Urbino, while his brothers, Cardinal GiovanniCarlo de' Medici and Cardinal Leopoldo de' Medici (the extremelyugly man with the curling chin, at the head of the Uffizi stairs), added theirs. Giovanni Carlo's pictures, which mostly went to thePitti were varied; but Leopold's were chiefly portraits of artists, wherever possible painted by themselves, a collection which is steadilybeing added to at the present time and is to be seen in several roomsof the Uffizi, and those miniature portraits of men of eminence whichwe shall see in the corridor between the Poccetti Gallery and Salon ofJustice at the Pitti. Cosimo III (1670-1723) added the Dutch picturesand the famous Venus de' Medici and other Tribuna statuary. The galleries remained the private property of the Medici family untilthe Electress Palatine, Anna Maria Ludovica de' Medici, daughter ofCosimo III and great niece of the Cardinal Leopold, bequeathed allthese treasures, to which she had greatly added, together with bronzesnow in the Bargello, Etruscan antiquities now in the ArchaeologicalMuseum, tapestries also there, and books in the Laurentian library, to Florence for ever, on condition that they should never be removedfrom Florence and should exist for the benefit of the public. Herdeath was in 1743, and with her passed away the last descendant ofthat Giovanni de' Medici (1360-1429) whom we saw giving commissionsto Donatello, building the children's hospital, and helping Florenceto the best of his power: so that the first Medici and the last wereakin in love of art and in generosity to their beautiful city. The new Austrian Grand Dukes continued to add to the Uffizi, particularly Pietro-Leopoldo (1765-1790), who also founded theAccademia. To him was due the assembling, under the Uffizi roof, of all the outlying pictures then belonging to the State, includingthose in the gallery of the hospital of S. Maria Nuova, which owned, among others, the famous Hugo van der Goes. It was he also whobrought together from Rome the Niobe statues and constructed a roomfor them. Leopold II added the Iscrizioni. It was as recently as 1842 to 1856 that the statues of the greatFlorentines were placed in the portico. These, beginning at the PalazzoVecchio, are, first, against the inner wall, Cosimo Pater (1389-1464)and Lorenzo the Magnificent (1450-1492); then, outside: Orcagna;Andrea Pisano, of the first Baptistery doors; Giotto and Donatello;Alberti, who could do everything and who designed the façade ofS. Maria Novella; Leonardo and Michelangelo. Next, three poets, Dante(1265-1321), Francesco Petrarca (1304-1374), and Giovanni Boccaccio(1313-1375). Then Niccolò Machiavelli (1469-1527), the statesman, and Francesco Guicciardini (1482-1540), the historian. That completesthe first side. At the end are Amerigo Vespucci (1451-1516), the explorer, who gavehis name to America, and Galileo Galilei (1564-1642), the astronomer;and above is Cosimo I, the first Grand Duke. On the Uffizi's river façade are four figures only--and hundreds ofswallows' nests. The figures are Francesco Ferrucci, who died in 1530, the general painted by Piero di Cosimo in our National Gallery, whorecaptured Volterra from Pope Clement VII in 1529; Giovanni delle BandeNere (1500-1527), father of Cosimo I, and a great fighting man; PieroCapponi, who died in 1496, and delivered Florence from Charles VIII in1494, by threatening to ring the city bells; and Farinata degli Uberti, an earlier soldier, who died in 1264 and is in the "Divina Commedia"as a hero. It was he who repulsed the Ghibelline suggestion thatFlorence should be destroyed and the inhabitants emigrate to Empoli. Working back towards the Loggia de' Lanzi we find less-known names:Pietro Antonio Michele (1679-1737), the botanist; Francesco Redi(1626-1697), a poet and a man of science; Paolo Mascagni (1732-1815), the anatomist; Andrea Cesalpino (1519-1603), the philosopher;S. Antonio (died 1461), Prior of the Convent of S. Marco and Archbishopof Florence; Francesco Accorso (1182-1229), the jurist; Guido Aretino(eleventh century), musician; and Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1572), the goldsmith and sculptor. The most notable omissions are Arnolfoand Brunelleschi (but these are, as we have seen, on the façade ofthe Palazzo de' Canonici, opposite the south side of the cathedral), Ghiberti, Fra Angelico, and Savonarola. Personally I should like tohave still others here, among them Giorgio Vasari, in recognitionof his enthusiastic and entertaining biographies of the Florentineartists, to say nothing of the circumstance that he designed thisbuilding. Before we enter any Florentine gallery let me say that there is onlyone free day and that the crowded Sabbath. Admittance to nearly all isa lira. Moreover, there is no re-admission. The charge strikes Englishvisitors, accustomed to the open portals of their own museums andgalleries, as an outrage, and it explains also the little interest intheir treasures which most Florentines display, for being essentiallya frugal people they have seldom seen them. Visitors who can satisfythe authorities that they are desirous of studying the works of artwith a serious purpose can obtain free passes; but only after certainpreliminaries, which include a seance with a photographer to satisfythe doorkeeper, by comparing the real and counterfeit physiognomies, that no illicit transference of the precious privilege has beenmade. Italy is, one knows, not a rich country; but the revenue whichthe gallery entrance-fees represent cannot reach any great volume, and such as it is it had much better, I should say, be raised byother means. Meanwhile, the foreigner chiefly pays it. What Giovannide' Medici and Lorenzo de' Medici, and--even more--what Anna MariaLudovica de' Medici, who bequeathed to the State these possessions, would think could they see this feverish and implacable pursuit ofpence, I have not imagination, or scorn, enough to set down. Infirm and languid visitors should get it clearly into their heads (1)that the tour of the Uffizi means a long walk and (2) that there isa lift. You find it in the umbrella room--at every Florentine galleryand museum is an official whose one object in life is to take away yourumbrella--and it costs twopence-halfpenny and is worth far more. Butwalking downstairs is imperative, because otherwise one would missSilenus and Bacchus, and a beautiful urgent Mars, in bronze, togetherwith other fine sculptured things. One of the quaintest symbols of conservatism in Florence is thescissors of the officials who supply tickets of entrance. Apparentlythe perforated line is unknown in Italy; hence the ticket is dividedfrom its counterfoil (which I assume goes to the authorities inorder that they may check their horrid takings) by a huge pairof shears. These things are snip-snapping all over Italy, all daylong. Having obtained your ticket you hand it to another official at aturn-stile, and at last you are free of cupidity and red tape and maybreathe easily again and examine the products of the light-hearted, generous Renaissance in the right spirit. One should never forget, in any gallery of Florence, to look outof the windows. There is always a courtyard, a street, or a spireagainst the sky; and at the Uffizi there are the river and bridgesand mountains. From the loggia of the Palazzo Vecchio I once saw awoman with some twenty or thirty city pigeons on the table of herlittle room, feeding them with maize. Except for glimpses of the river and the Via Guicciardini which itgives, I advise no one to walk through the passage uniting the Pittiand the Uffizi--unless of course bent on catching some of the ancientthrill when armed men ran swiftly from one palace to the other to quella disturbance or repulse an assault. Particularly does this counselapply to wet days, when all the windows are closed and there is noair. A certain interest attaches to the myriad portraits which linethe walls, chiefly of the Medici and comparatively recent worthies;but one must have a glutton's passion either for paint or history towish to examine these. As a matter of fact, only a lightning-speedtourist could possibly think of seeing both the Uffizi and the Pittion the same day, and therefore the need of the passage disappears. Itis hard worked only on Sundays. The drawings in the cases in the first long corridor are worth closestudy--covering as they do the whole range of great Italian art: from, say, Uccello to Carlo Dolci. But as they are from time to time changedit is useless to say more of them. There is also on the first landingof the staircase a room in which exhibitions of drawings of the OldMasters are held, and this is worth knowing about, not only becauseof the riches of the portfolios in the collection, but also becauseonce you have passed the doors you are inside the only picture galleryin Florence for which no entrance fee is asked. How the authoritieshave come to overlook this additional source of revenue, I have nonotion; but they have, and visitors should hasten to make the mostof it for fear that a translation of these words of mine may wanderinto bad hands. To name the most wonderful picture in the Uffizi would be a verydifficult task. At the Accademia, if a plebiscite were taken, there islittle doubt but that Botticelli's "Primavera" would win. At the PittiI personally would name Giorgione's "Concert" without any hesitation atall; but probably the public vote would go to Raphael's "Madonna dellaSedia". But the Uffizi? Here we are amid such wealth of masterpieces, and yet when one comes to pass them in review in memory none standsout as those other two I have named. Perhaps Botticelli would winagain, with his "Birth of Venus". Were the Leonardo finished . .. Butit is only a sketch. Luca Signorelli's wild flowers in No. 74 seem toabide with me as vividly and graciously as anything; but they are but adetail and it is a very personal predilection. Perhaps the great exoticwork painted far away in Belgium--the Van der Goes triptych--is themost memorable; but to choose an alien canvas is to break the rules ofthe game. Is it perhaps the unfinished Leonardo after all? If not, andnot the Botticelli, it is beyond question that lovely adoring Madonna, so gentle and sweet, against the purest and bluest of Tuscan skies, which is attributed to Filippino Lippi: No. 1354. CHAPTER IX The Uffizi II: The First Six Rooms Lorenzo Monaco--Fra Angelico--Mariotto Albertinelli turnsinnkeeper--The Venetian rooms--Giorgione's death--Titian--Mantegnauniting north and south--Giovanni Bellini--DomenicoGhirlandaio--Michelangelo--Luca Signorelli--Wild flowers--Leonardoda Vinci--Paolo Uccello. The first and second rooms are Venetian; but I am inclined to thinkthat it is better to take the second door on the left--the first Tuscansalon--and walking straight across it come at once to the Salon ofLorenzo Monaco and the primitives. For the earliest good picturesare here. Here especially one should remember that the pictureswere painted never for a gallery but for churches. Lorenzo Monaco(Lawrence the Monk, 1370-c. 1425), who gives his name to this room, was a monk of the Camaldolese order in the Monastery of the Angeli, and was a little earlier than Fra Angelico (the Angelic Brother), the more famous painting monk, whose dates are 1387-1455. Lorenzowas influenced by Taddeo Gaddi, Giotto's godson, friend, pupil, andassistant. His greatest work is this large Uffizi altar-piece--hepainted nothing but altar-pieces--depicting the Coronation of theVirgin: a great gay scene of splendour, containing pretty angels whomust have been the delight of children in church. The predella--andhere let me advise the visitor never to overlook the predellas, wherethe artist often throws off formality and allows his more naturalfeelings to have play, almost as though he painted the picture forothers and the predella for himself--is peculiarly interesting. Look, at the left, at the death of an old Saint attended by monks and nuns, whose grief is profound. One other good Lorenzo is here, an "Adorationof the Magi, " No. 39, a little out of drawing but full of life. But for most people the glory of the room is not Lorenzo the Monk, but Brother Giovanni of Fiesole, known ever more as Beato, or Fra, Angelico. Of that most adoring and most adorable of painters I say muchin the chapter on the Accademia, where he is very fully represented, and it might perhaps be well to turn to those pages (227-230) and readhere, on our first sight of his genius, what is said. Two Angelicos arein this room--the great triptych, opposite the chief Lorenzo, and the"Crowning of the Virgin, " on an easel. The triptych is as much copiedas any picture in the gallery, not, however, for its principal figures, but for the border of twelve angels round the centre panel. Angelico'sbenignancy and sweetness are here, but it is not the equal of the"Coronation, " which is a blaze of pious fervour and glory. The groupof saints on the right is very charming; but we are to be more pleasedby this radiant hand when we reach the Accademia. Already, however, we have learned his love of blue. Another altar-piece with a subtlequality of its own is the early Annunciation by Simone Martini ofSiena (1285-1344) and Lippo Memmi, his brother (d. 1357), in whichthe angel speaks his golden words across the picture through a vaseof lilies, and the Virgin receives them shrinkingly. It is all veryprimitive, but it has great attraction, and it is interesting tothink that the picture must be getting on for six hundred years ofage. This Simone was a pupil of Giotto and the painter of a portraitof Petrarch's Laura, now preserved in the Laurentian library, whichearned him two sonnets of eulogy. It is also two Sienese painterswho have made the gayest thing in this room, the predella, No. 1304, by Neroccio di Siena (1447-1500) and Francesco di Giorgio di Siena(1439-1502), containing scenes in the life of S. Benedetto. Nerocciodid the landscape and figures; the other the architecture, and veryfine it is. Another delightful predella is that by Benozzo Gozzoli(1420-1498), Fra Angelico's pupil, whom we have seen at the Riccardipalace. Gozzoli's predella is No. 1302. Finally, look at No. 64, which shows how prettily certain imitators of Fra Angelico could paint. After the Sala di Lorenzo Monaco let us enter the first Tuscanroom. The draughtsmanship of the great Last Judgment fresco by FraBartolommeo (1475-1517) and Mariotto Albertinelli (1474-1515) is veryfine. It is now a ruin, but enough remains to show that it must havebeen impressive. These collaborators, although intimate friends, ultimately went different ways, for Fra Bartolommeo came underthe influence of Savonarola, burned his nude drawings, and enteredthe Convent of S. Marco; whereas Albertinelli, who was a convivialfollower of Venus, tiring of art and even more of art jargon, tookan inn outside the S. Gallo gate and a tavern on the Ponte Vecchio, remarking that he had found a way of life that needed no knowledgeof muscles, foreshortening, or perspective, and better still, waswithout critics. Among his pupils was Franciabigio, whose lovelyMadonna of the Well we are coming to in the Tribuna. Chief among the other pictures are two by the delightful AlessioBaldovinetti, the master of Domenico Ghirlandaio, Nos. 60 and 56;and a large early altar-piece by the brothers Orcagna, painted in1367 for S. Maria Nuova, now the principal hospital of Florenceand once the home of many beautiful pictures. This work is ratherdingy now, but it is interesting as coming in part from the handthat designed the tabernacle in Or San Michele and the Loggia de'Lanzi. Another less-known painter represented here is FrancescoGranacci (1469-1543), the author of Nos. 1541 and 1280, both richand warm and pleasing. Granacci was a fellow-pupil of Michelangeloboth in Lorenzo de' Medici's garden and in Ghirlandaio's workshop, and the bosom friend of that great man all his life. Like Pierodi Cosimo, Granacci was a great hand at pageantry, and Lorenzo de'Medici kept him busy. He was not dependent upon art for his living, but painted for love of it, and Vasari makes him a very agreeable man. Here too is Gio. Antonio Sogliani (1492-1544), also a rare painter, with a finely coloured and finely drawn "Disputa, " No. 63. This painterseems to have had the same devotion to his master, Lorenzo di Credi, that di Credi had for his master, Verrocchio. Vasari calls Sogliani aworthy religious man who minded his own affairs--a good epitaph. Hiswork is rarely met with in Florence, but he has a large fresco atS. Marco. Lorenzo di Credi (1459-1537) himself has two pretty circularpaintings here, of which No. 1528 is particularly sweet: "The Virginand Child with St. John and Angels, " all comfortable and happy ina Tuscan meadow; while on an easel is another circular picture, byPacchiarotto (1477-1535). This has good colour and twilight beauty, but it does not touch one and is not too felicitously composed. Overthe door to the Venetian room is a Cosimo Rosselli with a prettilyaffectionate Madonna and Child. From this miscellaneous Tuscan room we pass to the two rooms whichcontain the Venetian pictures, of which I shall say less than mightperhaps be expected, not because I do not intensely admire them butbecause I feel that the chief space in a Florentine book should begiven to Florentine or Tuscan things. As a matter of fact, I findmyself when in the Uffizi continually drawn to revisit these walls. Thechief treasures are the Titians, the Giorgiones, the Mantegnas, the Carpaccio, and the Bellini allegory. These alone would makethe Uffizi a Mecca of connoisseurs. Giorgione is to be found in hisrichest perfection at the Pitti, in his one unforgettable work thatis preserved there, but here he is wonderful too, with his Cavalierof Malta, black and golden, and the two rich scenes, Nos. 621 and630, nominally from Scripture, but really from romantic Italy. To methese three pictures are the jewels of the Venetian collection. Todescribe them is impossible: enough to say that some glowing geniusproduced them; and whatever the experts admit, personally I preferto consider that genius Giorgione. Giorgione, who was born in 1477and died young--at thirty-three--was, like Titian, the pupil ofBellini, but was greatly influenced by Leonardo da Vinci. Later hebecame Titian's master. He was passionately devoted to music and toladies, and it was indeed from a lady that he had his early death, for he continued to kiss her after she had taken the plague. (No badway to die, either; for to be in the power of an emotion that swaysone to such foolishness is surely better than to live the lukewarmcalculating lives of most of us. ) Giorgione's claim to distinctionis that not only was he a glorious colourist and master of light andshade, but may be said to have invented small genre pictures thatcould be earned about and hung in this or that room at pleasure--suchpictures as many of the best Dutch painters were to bend their geniusto almost exclusively--his favourite subjects being music partiesand picnics. These Moses and Solomon pictures in the Uffizi are ofcourse only a pretext for gloriously coloured arrangements of peoplewith rich scenic backgrounds. No. 621 is the finer. The way in whichthe baby is being held in the other indicates how little Giorgionethought of verisimilitude. The colour was the thing. After the Giorgiones the Titians, chief of which is No. 633, "TheMadonna and Child with S. John and S. Anthony, " sometimes called the"Madonna of the Roses, " a work which throws a pallor over all Tuscanpictures; No. 626, the golden Flora, who glows more gloriously everymoment (whom we shall see again, at the Pitti, as the Magdalen);the Duke and Duchess of Urbino, Nos. 605 and 599, the Duchess setat a window with what looks so curiously like a deep blue Surreylandscape through it and a village spire in the midst; and 618, an unfinished Madonna and Child in which the Master's methods canbe followed. The Child, completed save for the final bath of light, is a miracle of draughtsmanship. The triptych by Andrea Mantegna (1431-1506) is of inexhaustibleinterest, for here, as ever, Mantegna is full of thought andpurpose. The left panel represents the Ascension, Christ being borneupwards by eleven cherubim in a solid cloud; the right panel--by farthe best, I think--shows the Circumcision, where the painter has sethimself various difficulties of architecture and goldsmith's workfor the pleasure of overcoming them, every detail being painted withDutch minuteness and yet leaving the picture big; while the middlepanel, which is concave, depicts an Adoration of the Magi that willbear much study. The whole effect is very northern: not much lessso than our own new National Gallery Mabuse. Mantegna also has acharming Madonna and Child, No. 1025, with pleasing pastoral andstone-quarrying activities in the distance. On the right of the triptych is the so-called Carpaccio (1450-1519), a confused but glorious melee of youths and halberds, reds and yellowsand browns, very modern and splendid and totally unlike anything elsein the whole gallery. Uccello may possibly be recalled, but only forsubject. Finally there is Giovanni Bellini (1426-1516), master ofTitian and Giorgione, with his "Sacra Conversazione, " No. 631, whichmeans I know not what but has a haunting quality. Later we shallsee a picture by Michelangelo which has been accused of blendingChristianity and paganism; but Bellini's sole purpose was to dothis. We have children from a Bacchic vase and the crowned Virgin; twonaked saints and a Venetian lady; and a centaur watching a hermit. Theforeground is a mosaic terrace; the background is rocks and water. Itis all bizarre and very curious and memorable and quite unique. For therest, I should mention two charming Guardis; a rich little Canaletto;a nice scene of sheep by Jacopo Bassano; the portrait of an unknownyoung man by an unknown painter, No. 1157; and Tintoretto's daring"Abraham and Isaac". The other Venetian room is almost wholly devoted to portraits, chiefamong them being a red-headed Tintoretto burning furiously, No. 613, and Titian's sly and sinister Caterina Cornaro in her gorgeous dress, No. 648; Piombo's "L'Uomo Ammalato"; Tintoretto's Jacopo Sansovino, the sculptor, the grave old man holding his calipers who made thatwonderful Greek Bacchus at the Bargello; Schiavone's ripe, bearded"Ignoto, " No. 649, and, perhaps above all, the Moroni, No. 386, black against grey. There is also Paolo Veronese's "Holy Family withS. Catherine, " superbly masterly and golden but suggesting the Rialtorather than Nazareth. One picture gives the next room, the Sala di Michelangelo, its name;but entering from the Venetian room we come first on the right to avery well-known Lippo Lippi, copied in every picture shop in Florence:No. 1307, a Madonna and two Children. Few pictures are so beset bydelighted observers, but apart from the perfection of it as an earlypainting, leaving nothing to later dexterity, its appeal to me isweak. The Madonna (whose head-dress, as so often in Lippo Lippi, foreshadows Botticelli) and the landscape equally delight; thechildren almost repel, and the decorative furniture in the cornerquite repels. The picture is interesting also for its colour, whichis unlike anything else in the gallery, the green of the Madonna'sdress being especially lovely and distinguished, and vulgarizingthe Ghirlandaio--No. 1297--which hangs next. This picture is far toohot throughout, and would indeed be almost displeasing but for theirradiation of the Virgin's face. The other Ghirlandaio--No. 1295--inthis room is far finer and sweeter; but at the Accademia and the Badiawe are to see him at his best in this class of work. None the less, No. 1295 is a charming thing, and the little Mother and her happyChild, whose big toe is being so reverently adored by the ancientmage, are very near real simple life. This artist, we shall see, always paints healthy, honest babies. The seaport in the distance ischarming too. Ghirlandaio's place in this room is interesting on account of hisrelation to Michelangelo as first instructor; but by the time that thegreat master's "Holy Family, " hanging here, was painted all tracesof Ghirlandaio's influence had disappeared, and if any forerunneris noticeable it is Luca Signorelli. But we must first glance atthe pretty little Lorenzo di Credi, No. 1160, the Annunciation, an artificial work full of nice thoughts and touches, with theprettiest little blue Virgin imaginable, a heavenly landscape, anda predella in monochrome, in one scene of which Eve rises from theside of the sleeping Adam with extraordinary realism. The announcingGabriel is deferential but positive; Mary is questioning but notwholly surprised. In any collection of Annunciations this picturewould find a prominent place. The "Holy Family" of Michelangelo--No. 1139--is remarkable for morethan one reason. It is, to begin with, the only finished easel picturethat exists from his brush. It is also his one work in oils, for heafterwards despised that medium as being fit "only for children". Theframe is contemporary and was made for it, the whole being commissionedby Angelo Doni, a wealthy connoisseur whose portrait by Raphael weshall see in the Pitti, and who, according to Vasari, did his best toget it cheaper than his bargain, and had in the end to pay dearer. Theperiod of the picture is about 1503, while the great David was inprogress, when the painter was twenty-eight. That it is masterly andsuperb there can be no doubt, but, like so much of Michelangelo'swork, it suffers from its author's greatness. There is an austerityof power here that ill consorts with the tender domesticity of thescene, and the Child is a young Hercules. The nude figures in thebackground introduce an alien element and suggest the conflict betweenChristianity and paganism, the new religion and the old: in short, theTwilight of the Gods. Whether Michelangelo intended this we shall notknow; but there it is. The prevailing impression left by the pictureis immense power and virtuosity and no religion. In the beautiful LucaSignorelli--No. 74--next it, we find at once a curious similarity anddifference. The Madonna and Child only are in the foreground, a nottoo radiant but very tender couple; in the background are male figuresnearly nude: not quite, as Michelangelo made them, and suggestingno discord as in his picture. Luca was born in 1441, and was thusthirty-four years older than Michelangelo. This picture is perhaps thatone presented by Luca to Lorenzo de' Medici, of which Vasari tells, andif so it was probably on a wall in the Medici palace when Michelangeloas a boy was taught with Lorenzo's sons. Luca's sweetness was aliento Michelangelo, but not his melancholy or his sense of composition;while Luca's devotion to the human form as the unit of expressionwas in Michelangelo carried out to its highest power. Vasari, whowas a relative of Luca's and a pupil of Michelangelo's, says thathis master had the greatest admiration for Luca's genius. Luca Signorelli was born at Cortona, and was instructed by Piero dellaFrancesca, whose one Uffizi painting is in a later room. His chief workis at Cortona, at Rome (in the Sixtine Chapel), and at Orvieto. Hisfame was sufficient in Florence in 1491 for him to be made one ofthe judges of the designs for the façade of the Duomo. Luca livedto a great age, not dying till 1524, and was much beloved. He wasmagnificent in his habits and loved fine clothes, was very kindlyand helpful in disposition, and the influence of his naturalness andsincerity upon art was great. One very pretty sad story is told of him, to the effect that when his son, whom he had dearly loved, was killedat Cortona, he caused the body to be stripped, and painted it with theutmost exactitude, that through his own handiwork he might be ableto contemplate that treasure of which fate had robbed him. Perhapsthe most beautiful or at any rate the most idiosyncratic thing in thepicture before us is its lovely profusion of wayside flowers. Thesecome out but poorly in the photograph, but in the painting theyare exquisite both in form and in detail. Luca painted them as ifhe loved them. (There is a hint of the same thoughtful care in theflowers in No. 1133, by Luca, in our National Gallery; but these atFlorence are the best. ) No. 74 is in tempera: the next, also by Luca, No. 1291, is in oil, a "Holy Family, " a work at once powerful, rich, and sweet. Here, again, we may trace an influence on Michelangelo, for the child is shown deprecating a book which his mother isdisplaying, while in the beautiful marble tondo of the "Madonna andChild" by Michelangelo, which we are soon to see in the Bargello, a reading lesson is in progress, and the child wearying of it. Wefind Luca again in the next large picture--No. 1547--a Crucifixion, with various Saints, done in collaboration with Perugino. The designsuggests Luca rather than his companion, and the woman at the foot ofthe cross is surely the type of which he was so fond. The drawing ofChrist is masterly and all too sombre for Perugino. Finally, there isa Luca predella, No. 1298, representing the Annunciation, the Birthof Christ (in which Joseph is older almost than in any version), andthe Adoration of the Magi, all notable for freedom and richness. Notethe realism and charm and the costume of the two pages of the Magi. And now we come to what is perhaps the most lovely picture in the wholegallery, judged purely as colour and sweetness and design--No. 1549--a"Madonna Adoring, " with Filippino Lippi's name and an interrogationmark beneath it. Who painted it if not Filippino? That is the question;but into such problems, which confront one at every turn in Florence, I am neither qualified nor anxious to enter. When doctors disagree anyone may decide before me. The thought, moreover, that always occursin the presence of these good debatable pictures, is that any doubtas to their origin merely enriches this already over-rich period, since some one had to paint them. Simon not pure becomes hardly lessremarkable than Simon pure. If only the Baby were more pleasing, this would be perhaps the mostdelightful picture in the world: as it is, its blues alone lift it tothe heavens of delectableness. By an unusual stroke of fortune a crackin the paint where the panels join has made a star in the tender bluesky. The Tuscan landscape is very still and beautiful; the flowers, although conventional and not accurate like Luca's, are as prettyas can be; the one unsatisfying element is the Baby, who is a littleclumsy and a little in pain, but diffuses radiance none the less. Andthe Mother--the Mother is all perfection and winsomeness. Her faceand hands are exquisite, and the Tuscan twilight behind her is solovely. I have given a reproduction, but colour is essential. The remaining three pictures in the room are a Bastiano and aPollaiolo, which are rather for the student than for the wanderer, and a charming Ignoto, No. 75, which I like immensely. But Ignotonearly always paints well. In the Sala di Leonardo are two pictures which bear the name ofthis most fascinating of all the painters of the world. One is theAnnunciation, No. 1288, upon the authenticity of which much has beensaid and written, and the other an unfinished Adoration of the Magiwhich cannot be questioned by anyone. The probabilities are that theAnnunciation is an early work and that the ascription is accurate:at Oxford is a drawing known to be Leonardo's that is almost certainlya study for a detail of this work, while among the Leonardo drawingsin the His de la Salle collection at the Louvre is something verylike a first sketch of the whole. Certainly one can think of no oneelse who could have given the picture its quality, which increasesin richness with every visit to the gallery; but the workshop ofVerrocchio, where Leonardo worked, together with Lorenzo di Credi andPerugino, with Andrea of the True Eye over all, no doubt put forthwonderful things. The Annunciation is unique in the collection, bothin colour and character: nothing in the Uffizi so deepens. There areno cypresses like these in any other picture, no finer drawing thanthat of Mary's hands. Luca's flowers are better, in the adjoiningroom; one is not too happy about the pedestal of the reading-desk;and there are Virgins whom we can like more; but as a whole it isperhaps the most fascinating picture of all, for it has the Leonardodarkness as well as light. Of Leonardo I could write for ever, but this book is not the place;for though he was a Florentine, Florence has very little of his work:these pictures only, and one of these only for certain, togetherwith an angel in a work by Verrocchio at the Accademia which weshall see, and possibly a sculptured figure over the north door ofthe Baptistery. Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan, and Francis I ofFrance, lured him away, to the eternal loss of his own city. It isMilan and Paris that are richest in his work, and after that London, which has at South Kensington a sculptured relief by him as well asa painting at the National Gallery, a cartoon at Burlington House, and the British Museum drawings. His other work here--No. 1252--in the grave brown frame, was to havebeen Leonardo's greatest picture in oil, so Vasari says: larger, infact, than any known picture at that time. Being very indistinct, it is, curiously enough, best as the light begins to fail and thebeautiful wistful faces emerge from the gloom. In their presence onerecalls Leonardo's remark in one of his notebooks that faces are mostinteresting beneath a troubled sky. "You should make your portrait, "he adds, "at the hour of the fall of the evening when it is cloudyor misty, for the light then is perfect. " In the background one candiscern the prancing horses of the Magi's suite; a staircase withfigures ascending and descending; the rocks and trees of Tuscany;and looking at it one cannot but ponder upon the fatality which seemsto have pursued this divine and magical genius, ordaining that almosteverything that he put forth should be either destroyed or unfinished:his work in the Castello at Milan, which might otherwise be an eighthwonder of the world, perished; his "Last Supper" at Milan perishing;his colossal equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza broken to pieces;his sculpture lost; his Palazzo Vecchio battle cartoon perished;this picture only a sketch. Even after long years the evil fate stillpersists, for in 1911 his "Gioconda" was stolen from the Louvre bymadman or knave. Among the other pictures in this room is the rather hot "Adorationof the Magi, " by Cosimo Rosselli (1439-1507), over the Leonardo"Annunciation, " a glowing scene of colour and animation: this Cosimobeing the Cosimo from whom Piero di Cosimo took his name, and anassociate of Botticelli, Ghirlandaio, Perugino, and Luca Signorellion the Sixtine Chapel frescoes. On the left wall is Uccello's battlepiece, No. 52, very like that in our National Gallery: rich andglorious as decoration, but quite bearing out Vasari's statement thatUccello could not draw horses. Uccello was a most laborious studentof animal life and so absorbed in the mysteries of perspective thathe preferred them to bed; but he does not seem to have been able tounite them. He was a perpetual butt of Donatello. It is told of himthat having a commission to paint a fresco for the Mercato Vecchiohe kept the progress of the work a secret and allowed no one tosee it. At last, when it was finished, he drew aside the sheet forDonatello, who was buying fruit, to admire. "Ah, Paolo, " said thesculptor reproachfully, "now that you ought to be covering it up, you uncover it. " There remain a superb nude study of Venus by Lorenzo di Credi, No. 3452--one of the pictures which escaped Savonarola's bonfireof vanities, and No. 1305, a Virgin and Child with various Saintsby Domenico Veneziano (1400-1461), who taught Gentile da Fabriano, the teacher of Jacopo Bellini. This picture is a complete contrast tothe Uccello: for that is all tapestry, richness, and belligerence, and this is so pale and gentle, with its lovely light green, a rarecolour in this gallery. CHAPTER X The Uffizi III: Botticelli A painter apart--Sandro Filipepi--Artists' names--Piero de' Medici--The"Adoration of the Magi"--The "Judith" pictures--Lucrezia Tornabuoni, Lorenzo and Giuliano's mother--The Tournaments--The "Birth of Venus"and the "Primavera"--Simonetta--A new star--Sacred pictures--Savonarolaand "The Calumny"--The National Gallery--Botticelli's old age anddeath. We come next to the Sala di Botticelli, and such is the positionheld by this painter in the affection of visitors to Florence, andsuch the wealth of works from his hand that the Uffizi possesses, that I feel that a single chapter may well be devoted to his genius, more particularly as many of his pictures were so closely associatedwith Piero de' Medici and Lorenzo de' Medici. We see Botticelli hereat his most varied. The Accademia also is very rich in his work, having above all the "Primavera, " and in this chapter I shall glanceat the Accademia pictures too, returning to them when we reach thatgallery in due course. Among the great Florentine masters Botticellistands apart by reason not only of the sensitive wistful delicacyof his work, but for the profound interest of his personality. Heis not essentially more beautiful than his friend Filippino Lippior--occasionally--than Fra Lippo Lippi his master; but he is alwaysdeeper. One feels that he too felt the emotion that his charactersdisplay; he did not merely paint, he thought and suffered. Hence hiswork is dramatic. Again Botticelli had far wider sympathies than mostof his contemporaries. He was a friend of the Medici, a neo-Platonist, a student of theology with the poet Palmieri, an illustrator of Dante, and a devoted follower of Savonarola. Of the part that women playedin his life we know nothing: in fact we know less of him intimatelythan of almost any of the great painters; but this we may guess, thathe was never a happy man. His work falls naturally into divisionscorresponding to his early devotion to Piero de' Medici and hiswife Lucrezia Tornabuoni, in whose house for a while he lived; tohis interest in their sons Lorenzo and Giuliano; and finally to hisbelief in Savonarola. Sublime he never is; comforting he never is;but he is everything else. One can never forget in his presence thetragedy that attends the too earnest seeker after beauty: not "allis vanity" does Botticelli say, but "all is transitory". Botticelli, as we now call him, was the son of Mariano Filipepi andwas born in Florence in 1447. According to one account he was calledSandro di Botticelli because he was apprenticed to a goldsmith ofthat name; according to another his brother Antonio, a goldsmith, was known as Botticello (which means a little barrel), and Sandrobeing with him was called Sandro di Botticello. Whatever the cause, the fact remains that the name of Filipepi is rarely used. And here a word as to the capriciousness of the nomenclature ofartists. We know some by their Christian names; some by their surnames;some by their nicknames; some by the names of their towns, and someby the names of their masters. Tommaso Bigordi, a goldsmith, was soclever in designing a pretty garland for women's hair that he wascalled Ghirlandaio, the garland-maker, and his painter son Domenicois therefore known for ever as Uomenico Ghirlandaio. Paolo Doni, apainter of battle scenes, was so fond of birds that he was known asUccello (a bird) and now has no other name; Pietro Vannucci comingfrom Perugia was called Perugino; Agnolo di Francesco di Migliorehappened to be a tailor with a genius of a son, Andrea; that genius istherefore Andrea of the Tailor--del Sarto--for all time. And so forth. To return to Botticelli. In 1447, when he was born, Fra Angelicowas sixty; and Masaccio had been dead for some years. At the ageof twelve the boy was placed with Fra Lippo Lippi, then a man ofa little more than fifty, to learn painting. That Lippo was hismaster one may see continually, but particularly by comparison ofhis headdresses with almost any of Botticelli's. Both were minutelycareful in this detail. But where Lippo was beautifully obvious, Sandro was beautifully analytical: he was also, as I have said, much more interesting and dramatic. Botticelli's best patron was Piero de' Medici, who took him intohis house, much as his son Lorenzo was to take Michelangelo intohis, and made him one of the family. For Piero, Botticelli alwayshad affection and respect, and when he painted his "Fortitude" asone of the Pollaiuoli's series of the Virtues for the Mercatanzia(of which several are in this gallery), he made the figure symbolizePiero's life and character--or so it is possible, if one wishes tobelieve. But it should be understood that almost nothing is knownabout Botticelli and the origin of his pictures. At Piero's requestBotticelli painted the "Adoration of the Magi" (No. 1286) which wasto hang in S. Maria Novella as an offering of gratitude for Piero'sescape from the conspiracy of Luca Pitti in 1466. Piero had but justsucceeded to Cosimo when Pitti, considering him merely an invalid, struck his blow. By virtue largely of the young Lorenzo's addressthe attack miscarried: hence the presence of Lorenzo in the picture, on the extreme left, with a sword. Piero himself in scarlet kneelsin the middle; Giuliano, his second son, doomed to an early death byassassination, is kneeling on his right. The picture is not only asacred painting but (like the Gozzoli fresco at the Riccardi palace)an exaltation of the Medici family. The dead Cosimo is at the Child'sfeet; the dead Giovanni, Piero's brother, stands close to the kneelingGiuliano. Among the other persons represented are collateral Mediciand certain of their friends. It is by some accepted that the figure in yellow, on the extreme right, looking out of this picture, is Botticelli himself. But for a portraitof the painter of more authenticity we must go to the Carmine, where, in the Brancacci chapel, we shall see a fresco by Botticelli's friendFilippino Lippi representing the Crucifixion of S. Peter, in whichour painter is depicted on the right, looking on at the scene--arather coarse heavy face, with a large mouth and long hair. He wearsa purple cap and red cloak. Vasari tells us that Botticelli, althoughso profoundly thoughtful and melancholy in his work, was extravagant, pleasure loving, and given to practical jokes. Part at least of thismight be gathered from observation of Filippino Lippi's portrait ofhim. According to Vasari it was No. 1286 which brought Botticelli hisinvitation to Rome from Sixtus IV to decorate the Sixtine Chapel. Butthat was several years later and much was to happen in the interval. The two little "Judith" pictures (Nos. 1156 and 1158) were painted forPiero de' Medici and had their place in the Medici palace. In 1494, when Piero di Lorenzo de' Medici was banished from Florence and thepalace looted, they were stolen and lost sight of; but during the reignof Francis I they reappeared and were presented to his wife BiancaCapella and once more placed with the Medici treasures. No. 1156, the Judith walking springily along, sword in hand, having slain thetyrant, is one of the masterpieces of paint. Everything about it isradiant, superb, and unforgettable. One other picture which the young painter made for his patron--or inthis case his patroness, Lucrezia Tornabuoni, Piero's wife--is the"Madonna of the Magnificat, " No. 1267, with its beautiful children andsweet Madonna, its lovely landscape but not too attractive Child. Thetwo boys are Lorenzo, on the left, and Giuliano, in yellow. Oneof their sisters leans over them. Here the boys are perhaps, inBotticelli's way, typified rather than portrayed. Although thispicture came so early in his career Botticelli never excelled itsrichness, beauty, and depth of feeling, nor its liquid delicacy oftreatment. Lucrezia Tornabuoni, for whom he painted it, was a veryremarkable woman, not only a good mother to her children and a goodwife to Piero, but a poet and exemplar. She survived Piero by thirteenyears and her son Giuliano by five. Botticelli painted her portrait, which is now in Berlin. These pictures are the principal work of Botticelli's first period, which coincides with the five years of Piero's rule and the periodof mourning for him. He next appears in what many of his admirers find his most fascinatingmood, as a joyous allegorist, the picture of Venus rising fromthe sea in this room, the "Primavera" which we shall see at theAccademia, and the "Mars and Venus" in our National Gallery, belonging to this epoch. But in order to understand them we mustagain go to history. Piero was succeeded in 1469 by his son Lorenzothe Magnificent, who continued his father's friendship for the youngpainter, now twenty-two years of age. In 1474 Lorenzo devised for hisbrother Giuliano a tournament in the Piazza of S. Croce very like thatwhich Piero had given for Lorenzo on the occasion of his betrothalin 1469; and Botticelli was commissioned by Lorenzo to make picturescommemorating the event. Verrocchio again helped with the costumes;Lucrezia Donati again was Queen of the Tournament; but the Queen ofBeauty was the sixteen-year-old bride of Marco Vespucci--the lovelySimonetta Cattaneo, a lady greatly beloved by all and a close friendboth of Giuliano and Lorenzo. The praises of Lorenzo's tournament had been sung by Luca Pulci:Giuliano's were sung by Poliziano, under the title "La Giostra diGiuliano de' Medici, " and it is this poem which Botticelli may besaid to have illustrated, for both poet and artist employ the sameimagery. Thus Poliziano, or Politian (of whom we shall hear more in thechapter on S. Marco) compares Simonetta to Venus, and in stanzas 100and 101 speaks of her birth, describing her blown to earth over thesea by the breath of the Zephyrs, and welcomed there by the Hours, one of whom offers her a robe. This, Botticelli translates intoexquisite tempera with a wealth of pretty thoughts. The cornflowersand daisies on the Hour's dress are alone a perennial joy. Simonetta as Venus has some of the wistfulness of the Madonnas;and not without reason does Botticelli give her this expression, forher days were very short. In the "Primavera, " which we are to see atthe Accademia, but which must be described here, we find Simonettaagain but we do not see her first. We see first that slender uprightcommanding figure, all flowers and youth and conquest, in her lovelyfloral dress, advancing over the grass like thistle-down. Neverbefore in painting had anything been done at once so distinguishedand joyous and pagan as this. For a kindred emotion one had to go toGreek sculpture, but Botticelli, while his grace and joy are Hellenic, was intensely modern too: the problems of the Renaissance, the tragedyof Christianity, equally cloud his brow. The symbolism of the "Primavera" is interesting. Glorious Spring isreturning to earth--in the presence of Venus--once more to make allglad, and with her her attendants to dance and sing, and the Zephyrsto bring the soft breezes; and by Spring Botticelli meant the reignof Lorenzo, whose tournament motto was "Le temps revient". Simonettais again the central figure, and never did Botticelli paint moreexquisitely than here. Her bosom is the prettiest in Florence; thelining of her robe over her right arm has such green and blue andgold as never were seen elsewhere; her golden sandals are delicateas gossamer. Over her head a little cupid hovers, directing his arrowat Mercury, on the extreme left, beside the three Graces. In Mercury, who is touching the trees with his caduceus andbidding them burgeon, some see Giuliano de' Medici, who was not yetbetrothed. But when the picture was painted both Giuliano and Simonettawere dead: Simonetta first, of consumption, in 1476, and Giuliano, bystabbing in 1478. Lorenzo, who was at Pisa during Simonetta's illness, detailed his own physician for her care. On hearing of her death hewalked out into the night and noticed for the first time a brilliantstar. "See, " he said, "either the soul of that most gentle ladyhath been transferred into that new star or else hath it been joinedtogether thereunto. " Of Giuliano's end we have read in Chapter II, and it was Botticelli, whose destinies were so closely bound up withthe Medici, who was commissioned to paint portraits of the murderousPazzi to be displayed outside the Palazzo Vecchio. A third picture in what may be called the tournament period is found bysome in the "Venus and Mars, " No. 915, in our National Gallery. HereGiuliano would be Mars, and Venus either one woman in particularwhom Florence wished him to marry, or all women, typified by one, trying to lure him from other pre-occupations, such as hunting. Tomake her Simonetta is to go too far; for she is not like the Simonettaof the other pictures, and Simonetta was but recently married and avery model of fair repute. In No. 916 in the National Gallery is a"Venus with Cupids" (which might be by Botticelli and might be by thatinteresting painter of whom Mr. Berenson has written so attractivelyas Amico di Sandro), in which Politian's description of Venus, inhis poem, is again closely followed. After the tournament pictures we come in Botticelli's career to theSixtine Chapel frescoes, and on his return to Florence to otherfrescoes, including that lovely one at the Villa Lemmi (then theVilla Tornabuoni) which is now on the staircase of the Louvre. Theseare followed by at least two more Medici pictures--the portrait ofPiero di Lorenzo de' Medici, in this room, No. 1154, the sad-facedyouth with the medal; and the "Pallas and the Centaur" at the Pitti, an historical record of Lorenzo's success as a diplomatist when hewent to Naples in 1480. The latter part of Botticelli's life was spent under the influenceof Savonarola and in despair at the wickedness of the world and itstreatment of that prophet. His pictures became wholly religious, butit was religion without joy. Never capable of disguising the sorrowthat underlies all human happiness--or, as I think of it in lookingat his work, the sense of transience--Botticelli, as age came uponhim, was more than ever depressed. One has the feeling that he waspersuaded that only through devotion and self-negation could peace ofmind be gained, and yet for himself could find none. The sceptic wastoo strong in him. Savonarola's eloquence could not make him serene, however much he may have come beneath its spell. It but served toincrease his melancholy. Hence these wistful despondent Madonnas, allso conscious of the tragedy before their Child; hence these troubledangels and shadowed saints. Savonarola was hanged and burned in 1498, and Botticelli paida last tribute to his friend in the picture in this room called"The Calumny". Under the pretence of merely illustrating a passagein Lucian, who was one of his favourite authors, Botticelli hasrepresented the campaign against the great reformer. The hallrepresents Florence; the judge (with the ears of an ass) theSignoria and the Pope. Into these ears Ignorance and Suspicionare whispering. Calumny, with Envy at her side and tended by Fraudand Deception, holds a torch in one hand and with the other dragsher victim, who personifies (but with no attempt at a likeness)Savonarola. Behind are the figures of Remorse, cloaked and miserable, and Truth, naked and unafraid. The statues in the niches ironicallyrepresent abstract virtues. Everything in the decoration of the palacepoints to enlightenment and content; and beyond is the calmest andgreenest of seas. One more picture was Botticelli to paint, and this also was tothe glory of Savonarola. By good fortune it belongs to the Englishpeople and is No. 1034 in the National Gallery. It has upon it aGreek inscription in the painter's own hand which runs in Englishas follows: "This picture I, Alessandro, painted at the end of theyear 1500, in the troubles of Italy, in the half-time after the timeduring the fulfilment of the eleventh of St. John, in the secondwoe of the Apocalypse, in the loosing of the devil for three yearsand a half. Afterwards he shall be confined, and we shall see himtrodden down, as in this picture. " The loosing of the devil was thethree years and a half after Savonarola's execution on May 23rd, 1498, when Florence was mad with reaction from the severity of hisdiscipline. S. John says, "I will give power unto my two witnesses, and they shall prophesy"; the painter makes three, Savonarola havinghad two comrades with him. The picture was intended to give heart tothe followers of Savonarola and bring promise of ultimate triumph. After the death of Savonarola, Botticelli became both poor andinfirm. He had saved no money and all his friends were dead--Piero de'Medici, Lorenzo, Giuliano, Lucrezia, Simonetta, Filippino Lippi, andSavonarola. He hobbled about on crutches for a while, a pensioner ofthe Medici family, and dying at the age of seventy-eight was buriedin Ognissanti, but without a tombstone for fear of desecration bythe enemies of Savonarola's adherents. Such is the outline of Botticelli's life. We will now look at suchof the pictures in this room as have not been mentioned. Entering from the Sala di Leonardo, the first picture on the right isthe "Birth of Venus". Then the very typical circular picture--a shapewhich has come to be intimately associated with this painter--No. 1289, "The Madonna of the Pomegranate, " one of his most beautiful works, and possibly yet another designed for Lucrezia Tornabuoni, for thecurl on the forehead of the boy to the left of the Madonna--who ismore than usually troubled--is very like that for which Giuliano de'Medici was famous. This is a very lovely work, although its colouris a little depressed. Next is the most remarkable of the Piero de'Medici pictures, which I have already touched upon--No. 1286, "TheAdoration of the Magi, " as different from the Venus as could be:the Venus so cool and transparent, and this so hot and rich, withits haughty Florentines and sumptuous cloaks. Above it is No. 23, a less subtle group--the Madonna, the Child and angels--difficult tosee. And then comes the beautiful "Magnificat, " which we know to havebeen painted for Lucrezia Tornabuoni and which shall here introduce apassage from Pater: "For with Botticelli she too, although she holds inher hands the 'Desire of all nations, ' is one of those who are neitherfor Jehovah nor for His enemies; and her choice is on her face. Thewhite light on it is cast up hard and cheerless from below, as whensnow lies upon the ground, and the children look up with surpriseat the strange whiteness of the ceiling. Her trouble is in the verycaress of the mysterious child, whose gaze is always far from her, and who has already that sweet look of devotion which men have neverbeen able altogether to love, and which still makes the born saint anobject almost of suspicion to his earthly brethren. Once, indeed, heguides her hand to transcribe in a book the words of her exaltation, the 'Ave, ' and the 'Magnificat, ' and the 'Gaude Maria, ' and the youngangels, glad to rouse her for a moment from her devotion, are eagerto hold the ink-horn and to support the book. But the pen almostdrops from her hand, and the high cold words have no meaning for her, and her true children are those others among whom, in her rude home, the intolerable honour came to her, with that look of wistful inquiryon their irregular faces which you see in startled animals--gipsychildren, such as those who, in Apennine villages, still hold outtheir long brown arms to beg of you, with their thick black hairnicely combed, and fair white linen on their sunburnt throats. " The picture's frame is that which was made for it four hundred andfifty years ago: by whom, I cannot say, but it was the custom at thattime for the painter himself to be responsible also for the frame. The glory of the end wall is the "Annunciation, " reproduced in thisbook. The picture is a work that may perhaps not wholly please atfirst, the cause largely of the vermilion on the floor, but in theend conquers. The hands are among the most beautiful in existence, and the landscape, with its one tree and its fairy architecture, is acontinual delight. Among "Annunciations, " as among pictures, it standsvery high. It has more of sophistication than most: the Virgin notonly recognizes the honour, but the doom, which the painter himselfforeshadows in the predella, where Christ is seen rising from thegrave. None of Fra Angelico's simple radiance here, and none of FraLippo Lippi's glorified matter-of-fact. Here is tragedy. The paintingof the Virgin's head-dress is again marvellous. Next the "Annunciation" on the left is, to my eyes, one of Botticelli'smost attractive works: No. 1303, just the Madonna and Child again, in a niche, with roses climbing behind them: the Madonna one of hisyoungest, and more placid and simple than most, with more than a hintof the Verrocchio type in her face. To the "School of Botticelli" thisis sometimes attributed: it may be rightly. Its pendant is another"Madonna and Child, " No. 76, more like Lippo Lippi and very beautifulin its darker graver way. The other wall has the "Fortitude, " the "Calumny, " and the two little"Judith and Holofernes" pictures. Upon the "Fortitude, " to which Ihave already alluded, it is well to look at Ruskin, who, however, was not aware that the artist intended any symbolic reference tothe character and career of Piero de' Medici. The criticism is in"Mornings in Florence" and it is followed by some fine pages on the"Judith". The "Justice, " "Prudence, " and "Charity" of the Pollaiuolobrothers, belonging to the same series as the "Fortitude, " are alsohere; but after the "Fortitude" one does not look at them. CHAPTER XI the Uffizi IV: Remaining Rooms S. Zenobius--Piero della Francesca--Federigo da Montefeltro--Melozzoda Forli--The Tribuna--Raphael--Re-arrangement--The gems--Theself-painted portraits--A northern room--Hugo van der Goes--Tommaso Portinari--The sympathetic Memling--Rubens riotous--Vittoriadella Rovere--Baroccio--Honthorst--Giovanni the indiscreet--TheMedusa--Medici miniatures--Hercules Seghers--The Sala di Niobe--Beautiful antiques. Passing from the Sala di Botticelli through the Sala di LorenzoMonaco and the first Tuscan rooms to the corridor, we come tothe second Tuscan room, which is dominated by Andrea del Sarto(1486-1531), whose "Madonna and Child, " with "S. Francis and S. Johnthe Evangelist"--No. 112--is certainly the favourite picture here, as it is, in reproduction, in so many homes; but, apart from theChild, I like far better the "S. Giacomo"--No. 1254--so sympatheticand rich in colour, which is reproduced in this volume. Anothergood Andrea is No. 93--a soft and misty apparition of Christ tothe Magdalen. The Sodoma (1477-1549) on the easel--"S. Sebastian, "No. 1279--is very beautiful in its Leonardesque hues and romanticlandscape, and the two Ridolfo Ghirlandaios (1483-1561) near it areinteresting as representing, with much hard force, scenes in the storyof S. Zenobius, of Florence, of whom we read in chapter II. In one herestores life to the dead child in the midst of a Florentine crowd;in the other his bier, passing the Baptistery, reanimates the deadtree. Giotto's tower and the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio are to beseen on the left. A very different picture is the Cosimo Rosselli, No. 1280 his, a comely "Madonna and Saints, " with a motherly thoughtin the treatment of the bodice. Among the other pictures is a naked sprawling scene of bodies andlimbs by Cosimo I's favourite painter, Bronzino (1502-1572), called"The Saviour in Hell, " and two nice Medici children from the samebrush, which was kept busy both on the living and ancestral lineamentsof that family; two Filippino Lippis, both fine if with a littletoo much colour for this painter: one--No. 1257--approaching thehotness of a Ghirlandaio carpet piece, but a great feat of crowdedactivity; the other, No. 1268, having a beautiful blue Madonna anda pretty little cherub with a red book. Piero di Cosimo is here, religious and not mythological; and here are a very straightforwardand satisfying Mariotto Albertinelli--the "Virgin and S. Elizabeth, "very like a Fra Bartolommeo; a very rich and beautiful "Deposition"by Botticini, one of Verrocchio's pupils, with a gay little predellaunderneath it, and a pretty "Holy Family" by Franciabigio. But Andrearemains the king of the walls. From this Sala a little room is gained which I advise alltired visitors to the Uffizi to make their harbour of refuge andrecuperation; for it has only three or four pictures in it and threeor four pieces of sculpture and some pleasant maps and tapestryon the walls, and from its windows you look across the brown-redtiles to S. Miniato. The pictures, although so few, are peculiarlyattractive, being the work of two very rare hands, Piero dellaFrancesca (? 1398-1492) and Melozzo da Forli (1438-1494). Melozzohas here a very charming Annunciation in two panels, the fascinationof which I cannot describe. That they are fascinating there is, however, no doubt. We have symbolical figures by him in our NationalGallery--again hanging next to Piero della Francesca--but they are notthe equal of these in charm, although very charming. These grow moreattractive with every visit: the eager advancing angel with his lily, and the timid little Virgin in her green dress, with folded hands. The two Pieros are, of course, superb. Piero never painted anythingthat was not distinguished and liquid, and here he gives us ofhis best: portraits of Federigo da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino, andBattista, his second Duchess, with classical scenes behind them. Pierodella Francesca has ever been one of my favourite painters, and here heis wholly a joy. Of his works Florence has but few, since he was nota Florentine, nor did he work here, being engaged chiefly at Urbino, Ferrara, Arezzo, and Rome. His life ended sadly, for he became totallyblind. In addition to his painting he was a mathematician of muchrepute. The Duke of Urbino here depicted is Federigo da Montefeltro, who ruled from 1444 to 1482, and in 1459 married as his second wifea daughter of Alessandro Sforza, of Pesaro, the wedding being theoccasion of Piero's pictures. The duke stands out among the manyItalian lords of that time as a humane and beneficent ruler andcollector, and eager to administer well. He was a born fighter, and itwas owing to the loss of his right eye and the fracture of his nobleold nose that he is seen here in such a determined profile againstthe lovely light over the Umbrian hills. The symbolical chariots inthe landscape at the back represent respectively the Triumph of Fame(the Duke's) and the Triumph of Chastity (that of the Duchess). TheDuke's companions are Victory, Prudence, Fortitude, Justice, andTemperance; the little Duchess's are Love, Hope, Faith, Charity, and Innocence; and if these are not exquisite pictures I never saw any. The statues in the room should not be missed, particularly the littleGenius of Love, the Bacchus and Ampelos, and the spoilt little comelyboy supposed to represent--and quite conceivably--the infant Nero. Crossing the large Tuscan room again, we come to a little narrow roomfilled with what are now called cabinet pictures: far too many tostudy properly, but comprising a benignant old man's head, No. 1167, which is sometimes called a Filippino Lippi and sometimes a Masaccio, a fragment of a fresco; a boy from the serene perfect hand of Perugino, No. 1217; two little panels by Fra Bartolommeo--No. 1161--painted for atabernacle to hold a Donatello relief and representing the Circumcisionand Nativity, in colours, and at the back a pretty Annunciation inmonochrome; No. 1235, on the opposite wall, a very sweet Mother andChild by the same artist; a Perseus liberating Andromeda, by Pierodi Cosimo, No. 1312; two or three Lorenzo di Credis; two or threeAlloris; a portrait of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, by Antonio Pollaiuolo;and three charming little scenes from the lives of S. John the Baptistand the Virgin, by Fra Angelico, which belong properly to the predellaof an altar-piece that we saw in the first room we entered--No. 1290, "The Coronation of the Virgin". No. 1162 has the gayest green dressin it imaginable. And here we enter the Tribuna, which is to the Uffizi what the SalonCarré is to the Louvre: the special treasure-room of the gallery, holding its most valuable pictures. But to-day there are as good worksoutside it as in; for the Michelangelo has been moved to anotherroom, and Botticelli (to name no other) is not represented here atall. Probably the statue famous as the Venus de' Medici would beconsidered the Tribuna's chief possession; but not by me. Nor shouldI vote either for Titian's Venus. In sculpture I should choose ratherthe "Knife-sharpener, " and among the pictures Raphael's "Madonna delCardellino, " No. 1129. But this is not to suggest that everythingis not a masterpiece, for it is. Beginning at the door leading fromthe room of the little pictures, we find, on our left, Raphael's"Ignota, " No. 1120, so rich and unfeeling, and then Francia's portraitof Evangelista Scappi, so rich and real and a picture that one neverforgets. Raphael's Julius II comes next, not so powerful as the versionin the Pitti, and above that Titian's famous Venus. In Perugino'sportrait of Francesco delle Opere, No. 287, we find an evening skyand landscape still more lovely than Francia's. This Francesco wasbrother of Giovanni delle Corniole, a protégé of Lorenzo de' Medici, famous as a carver of intaglios, whose portrait of Savonarola inthis medium, now preserved in the Uffizi, in the Gem Room, was saidby Michelangelo to carry art to its farthest possible point. A placid and typical Perugino--the Virgin and two saints--comes next, and then a northern air sweeps in with Van Dyck's Giovanni di Montfort, now darkening into gloom but very fine and commanding. Titian's secondVenus is above, for which his daughter Lavinia acted as model (theVenus of the other version being possibly the Marchesa della Rovere), and under it is the only Luini in the Uffizi, unmistakably from thesweet hand and full of Leonardesque influence. Beneath this is a richand decorative work of the Veronese school, a portrait of ElisabettaGonzaga, with another evening sky. Then we go north again, to Dürer'sAdoration of the Magi, a picture full of pleasant detail--a littlemountain town here, a knight in difficulties with his horse there, two butterflies close to the Madonna--and interesting also for thetreatment of the main theme in Dürer's masterly careful way; and thento Spain to Spagnoletto's "S. Jerome" in sombre chiaroscuro; then northagain to a painfully real Christ crowned with thorns, by Lucas vanLeyden, and the mousy, Reynoldsy, first wife of Peter Paul Rubens, while a Van Dyck portrait under a superb Domenichino and an "Adamand Eve" by Lucas Cranach complete the northern group. And so we cometo the two Correggios--so accomplished and rich and untouching--alldelightful virtuosity without feeling. The favourite is, of course, No. 1134, for its adorable Baby, whose natural charm atones for itstheatrical Mother. On the other side of the door is No. 1129, the perfect "Madonnadel Cardellino" of Raphael, so called from the goldfinch that thelittle boys are caressing. This, one is forced to consider one of theperfect pictures of the world, even though others may communicate morepleasure. The landscape is so exquisite and the mild sweetness of thewhole work so complete; and yet, although the technical mastery isalmost thrilling, the "Madonna del Pozzo" by Andrea del Sarto's friendFranciabigio, close by--No. 1125--arouses infinitely livelier feelingsin the observer, so much movement and happiness has it. Raphael isperfect but cold; Franciabigio is less perfect (although exceedinglyaccomplished) but warm with life. The charm of this picture is asnotable as the skill of Raphael's: it is wholly joyous, and the littleMadonna really once lived. Both are reproduced in this volume. Raphael's neighbouring youthful "John the Baptist" is almost aGiorgione for richness, but is as truly Raphael as the Sebastiandel Piombo, once (like the Franciabigio also) called a Raphael, isnot. How it came to be considered Raphael, except that there may bea faint likeness to the Fornarina, is a mystery. The rooms next the Tribuna have for some time been underreconstruction, and of these I say little, nor of what pictures areto be placed there. But with the Tribuna, in any case, the collectionsuddenly declines, begins to crumble. The first of these rooms, in thespring of this year, 1912, was opened with a number of small Italianpaintings; but they are probably only temporarily there. Chief amongthem was a Parmigianino, a Boltraffio, a pretty little Guido Reni, a Cosimo Tura, a Lorenzo Costa, but nothing really important. In the tiny Gem Room at the end of the corridor are wonders ofthe lapidary's art--and here is the famous intaglio portrait ofSavonarola--but they want better treatment. The vases and otherornaments should have the light all round them, as in the Galeried'Apollon at the Louvre. These are packed together in wall cases andare hard to see. Passing through the end corridor, where the beautiful Matrona reclinesso placidly on her couch against the light, and where we have suchpleasant views of the Ponte Vecchio, the Trinita bridge, the Arno, and the Apennines, so fresh and real and soothing after so much paint, we come to the rooms containing the famous collection of self-paintedportraits, which, moved hither from Rome, has been accumulatingin the Uffizi for many years and is still growing, to be invitedto contribute to it being one of the highest honours a painter canreceive. The portraits occupy eight rooms and a passage. Though thecollection is historically and biographically valuable, it contains forevery interesting portrait three or four dull ones, and thus becomessomething of a weariness. Among the best are Lucas Cranach, Anton More, Van Dyck, Rembrandt (three), Rubens, Seybold, Jordaens, Reynolds, and Romney, all of which remind us of Michelangelo's dry comment, "Every painter draws himself well". Among the most interesting to us, wandering in Florence, are the two Andreas, one youthful and the othergrown fatter than one likes and very different from the melancholyromantic figure in the Pitti; Verrocchio, by Lorenzo di Credi; CarloDolci, surprising by its good sense and humour; Raphael, angelic, wistful, and weak; Tintoretto, old and powerful; and Jacopo Bassano, old and simple. Among the moderns, Corot's portrait of himself isone of the most memorable, but Fantin Latour, Flandrin, Leon Bonnat, and Lenbach are all strong and modest; which one cannot say of ourown Leighton. Among the later English heads Orchardson's is notable, but Mr. Sargent's is disappointing. We now come to one of the most remarkable rooms in the gallery, whereevery picture is a gem; but since all are northern pictures, imported, I give no reproductions. This is the Sala di Van der Goes, so calledfrom the great work here, the triptych, painted in 1474 to 1477 byHugo van der Goes, who died in 1482, and was born at Ghent or Leydenabout 1405. This painter, of whose genius there can be no question, is supposed to have been a pupil of the Van Eycks. Not much is knownof him save that he painted at Bruges and Ghent and in 1476 entereda convent at Brussels where he was allowed to dine with distinguishedstrangers who came to see him and where he drank so much wine that hisnatural excitability turned to insanity. He seems, however, to haverecovered, and if ever a picture showed few signs of a deranged orinflamed mind it is this, which was painted for the agent of the Medicibank at Bruges, Tommaso Portinari, who presented it to the Hospital ofS. Maria Nuova in his native city of Florence, which had been foundedby his ancestor Folco, the father of Dante's Beatrice. The left panelshows Tommaso praying with his two sons Antonio and Pigallo, the righthis wife Maria Portinari and their adorably quaint little daughterwith her charming head-dress and costume. The flowers in the centrepanel are among the most beautiful things in any Florentine picture:not wild and wayward like Luca Signorelli's, but most exquisitelydone: irises, red lilies, columbines and dark red clove pinks--allunexpected and all very unlikely to be in such a wintry landscape atall. On the ground are violets. The whole work is grave, austere, cool, and as different as can be from the Tuscan spirit; yet it issaid to have had a deep influence on the painters of the time andmust have drawn throngs to the Hospital to see it. The other Flemish and German pictures in the room are all remarkableand all warmer in tone. No. 906, an unknown work, is perhaps thefinest: a Crucifixion, which might have borrowed its richness fromthe Carpaccio, we saw in the Venetian room. There is a fine Adorationof the Magi, by Gerard David (1460-1523); an unknown portrait ofPierantonio Baroncelli and his wife, with a lovely landscape; a jewelof paint by Hans Memling (1425-1492)--No. 703--the Madonna Enthroned;a masterpiece of drawing by Dürer, "Calvary"; an austere and poignantTransportation of Christ to the Sepulchre, by Roger van der Weyden(1400-1464); and several very beautiful portraits by Memling, notablyNos. 769 and 780 with their lovely evening light. Memling, indeed, I never liked better than here. Other fine pictures are a Spanishprince by Lucas van Leyden; an old Dutch scholar by an artist unknown, No. 784; and a young husband and wife by Joost van Cleef the Elder, and a Breughel the Elder, like an old Crome--a beauty--No. 928. Theroom is interesting both for itself and also as showing how theFlemish brushes were working at the time that so many of the greatItalians were engaged on similar themes. After the cool, self-contained, scientific work of these northernersit is a change to enter the Sala di Rubens and find that luxuriantgiant--their compatriot, but how different!--once more. In the Uffizi, Rubens seems more foreign, far, than any one, so fleshly pagan ishe. In Antwerp Cathedral his "Descent from the Cross, " althoughits bravura is, as always with him, more noticeable than its piety, might be called a religious picture, but I doubt if even that wouldseem so here. At any rate his Uffizi works are all secular, whilehis "Holy Family" in the Pitti is merely domestic and robust. HisFlorentine masterpieces are the two Henri IV pictures in this room, "Henri IV at Ivry, " magnificent if not war, and "Henri's entry intoParis after Ivry, " with its confusing muddle of naked warriors andspears. Only Rubens could have painted these spirited, impossible, glorious things, which for all their greatness send one's thoughtsback longingly to the portrait of his wife, in the Tribuna, whileNo. 216--the Bacchanale--is so coarse as almost to send one's feetthere too. Looking round the room, after Rubens has been dismissed, it is tooevident that the best of the Uffizi collection is behind us. Thereare interesting portraits here, but biographically rather thanartistically. Here are one or two fine Sustermans' (1597-1681), that imported painter whom we shall find in such rare form at thePitti. Here, for example, is Ferdinand II, who did so much for theUffizi and so little for Galileo; and his cousin and wife Vittoriadella Rovere, daughter of Claudia de' Medici (whose portrait, No. 763, is on the easel), and Federigo della Rovere, Duke of Urbino. Thissilly, plump lady had been married at the age of fourteen, and shebrought her husband a little money and many pictures from Urbino, notably those delightful portraits of an earlier Duke and Duchess ofUrbino by Piero della Francesca, and also the two Titian "Venuses"in the Tribuna. Ferdinand II and his Grand Duchess were on bad termsfor most of their lives, and she behaved foolishly, and brought upher son Cosimo III foolishly, and altogether was a misfortune toFlorence. Sustermans the painter she held in the highest esteem, andin return he painted her not only as herself but in various unlikelycharacters, among them a Vestal Virgin and even the Madonna. Here also is No. 196, Van Dyck's portrait of Margherita of Lorraine, whose daughter became Cosimo III's wife--a mischievous, weak facebut magnificently painted; and No. 1536, a vividly-painted elderlywidow by Jordaens (1593-1678); and on each side of the outrageousRubens a distinguished Dutch gentleman and lady by the placid, refined Mierevelt. The two priceless rooms devoted to Iscrizioni come next, but wewill finish the pictures first and therefore pass on to the Sala diBaroccio. Federigo Baroccio (1528-1612) is one of the later paintersfor whom I, at any rate, cannot feel any enthusiasm. His position inthe Uffizi is due rather to the circumstance that he was a protégé ofthe Cardinal della Rovere at Rome, whose collection came here, than tohis genius. This room again is of interest rather historically thanartistically. Here, for example, are some good Medici portraits byBronzino, among them the famous Eleanora of Toledo, wife of Cosimo I, in a rich brocade (in which she was buried), with the little staringFerdinand I beside her. Eleanora, as we saw in chapter V. Was the firstmistress of the Pitti palace, and the lady who so disliked Cellini andgot him into such trouble through his lying tongue. Bronzino's littleMaria de' Medici--No. 1164--is more pleasing, for the other picture hasa sinister air. This child, the first-born of Cosimo I and Eleanora, died when only sixteen. Baroccio has a fine portrait--Francesco MariaII, last Duke of Urbino, and the grandfather of the Vittoria dellaRovere whom we saw in the Sala di Rubens. Here also is a portraitof Lorenzo the Magnificent by Vasari, but it is of small valuesince Vasari was not born till after Lorenzo's death. The Galileoby Sustermans--No. 163--on the contrary would be from life; andafter the Tribuna portrait of Rubens' first wife it is interestingto find here his pleasant portrait of Helen Fourment, his second. Tomy eyes two of the most attractive pictures in the room are the YoungSculptor--No. 1266--by Bronzino, and the version of Leonardo's S. Anneat the Louvre by Andrea Salaino of Milan (1483?-1520?). I like alsothe hints of tenderness of Bernardino Luini which break through thehardness of the Aurelio Luini picture--No. 204. For the rest there aresome sickly Guido Renis and Carlo Dolcis and a sentimental Guercino. But the most popular works--on Sundays--are the two Gerard Honthorsts, and not without reason, for they are dramatic and bold and vivid, and there is a Baby in each that goes straight to the maternalheart. No. 157 is perhaps the more satisfying, but I have more reasonto remember the larger one--the Adoration of the Shepherds--for Iwatched a copyist produce a most remarkable replica of it in somethingunder a week, on the same scale. He was a short, swarthy man witha neck like a bull's, and he carried the task off with astonishingbrio, never drawing a line, finishing each part as he came to it, andtalking to a friend or an official the whole time. Somehow one felt himto be precisely the type of copyist that Gherardo della Notte oughtto have. This painter was born at Utrecht in 1590 but went early toItaly, and settling in Rome devoted himself to mastering the methodsof Amerighi, better known as Caravaggio (1569-1609), who specializedin strong contrasts of light and shade. After learning all he couldin Rome, Honthorst returned to Holland and made much money and fame, for his hand was swift and sure. Charles I engaged him to decorateWhitehall. He died in 1656. These two Honthorsts are, as I say, themost popular of the pictures on Sunday, when the Uffizi is free; buttheir supremacy is challenged by the five inlaid tables, one of which, chiefly in lapis lazuli, must be the bluest thing on earth. Passing for the present the Sala di Niobe, we come to the Sala diGiovanni di San Giovanni, which is given to a second-rate painter whowas born in 1599 and died in 1636. His best work is a fresco at theBadia of Fiesole. Here he has some theatrical things, including onepicture which sends English ladies out blushing. Here also are someLelys, including "Nelly Gwynn". Next are two rooms, one leading fromthe other, given to German and Flemish pictures and to miniatures, both of which are interesting. In the first are more Dürers, andthat alone would make it a desirable resort. Here is a "Virgin andChild"--No. 851--very naive and homely, and the beautiful portrait ofhis father--No. 766---a symphony of brown and green. Less attractiveworks from the same hand are the "Apostle Philip"--No. 777--and"S. Giacomo Maggiore, " an old man very coarsely painted by comparisonwith the artist's father. Here also is a very beautiful portraitof Richard Southwell, by Holbein, with the peacock-green backgroundthat we know so well and always rejoice to see; a typical candle-lightSchalcken, No. 800; several golden Poelenburghs; an anonymous portraitof Virgilius von Hytta of Zuicham, No. 784; a clever smiling lady bySustermans, No. 709; the Signora Puliciani and her husband, No. 699;a rather crudely coloured Rubens--"Venus and Adonis"--No. 812; thesame artist's "Three Graces, " in monochrome, very naked; and somequaint portraits by Lucas Cranach. But no doubt to many persons the most enchaining picture here isthe Medusa's head, which used to be called a Leonardo and quitesatisfied Ruskin of its genuineness, but is now attributed to theFlemish school. The head, at any rate, would seem to be very similarto that of which Vasari speaks, painted by Leonardo for a peasant, but retained by his father. Time has dealt hardly with the paint, andone has to study minutely before Medusa's horrors are visible. WhetherLeonardo's or not, it is not uninteresting to read how the pictureaffected Shelley when he saw it here in 1819:-- . .. Its Horror and its Beauty are divine. Upon its lips and eyelids seem to lie Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, The agonies of anguish and of death. The little room leading from this one should be neglected by no oneinterested in Medicean history, for most of the family is here, inminiature, by Bronzino's hand. Here also are miniatures by other greatpainters, such as Pourbus, Guido Reni, Bassano, Clouet, Holbein. Lookparticularly at No. 3382, a woman with brown hair, in purple--a mostfascinating little picture. The Ignota in No. 3348 might easily beHenrietta Maria, wife of Charles I of England. The other exhibitsare copies in miniature of famous pictures, notable among them aRaphael--No. 3386--and a Breughel--No. 3445--while No. 3341, therobing of a monk, is worth attention. We come now to the last pictures of the collection--in three littlerooms at the end, near the bronze sleeping Cupid. Those in the firstroom were being rearranged when I was last here; the others containDutch works notable for a few masterpieces. There are too manyPoelenburghs, but the taste shown as a whole is good. Perhaps tothe English enthusiast for painting the fine landscape by HerculesSeghers will, in view of the recent agitation over Lord Lansdowne'sRembrandt, "The Mill, "--ascribed in some quarters to Seghers--be themost interesting picture of all. It is a sombre, powerful scene ofrugged coast which any artist would have been proud to sign; but itin no way recalls "The Mill's" serene strength. Among the best ofits companions are a very good Terburg, a very good Metsu, and anextremely beautiful Ruysdael. And so we are at the end of the pictures--but only to return again andagain--and are not unwilling to fall into the trap of the official whosits here, and allow him to unlock the door behind the Laocöon groupand enjoy what he recommends as a "bella vista" from the open space, which turns out to be the roof of the Loggia de' Lanzi. From thishigh point one may see much of Florence and its mountains, while, on looking down, over the coping, one finds the busy Piazza dellaSignoria below, with all its cabs and wayfarers. Returning to the gallery, we come quickly on the right to the firstof the neglected statuary rooms, the beautiful Sala di Niobe, whichcontains some interesting Medicean and other tapestries, and thesixteen statues of Niobe and her children from the Temple of Apollo, which the Cardinal Ferdinand de' Medici acquired, and which were formany years at the Villa Medici at Rome. A suggested reconstructionof the group will be found by the door. I cannot pretend to a deepinterest in the figures, but I like to be in the room. The famousMedicean vase is in the middle of it. Sculpture more ingratiatingis close by, in the two rooms given to Iscrizioni: a collectionof priceless antiques which are not only beautiful but peculiarlyinteresting in that they can be compared with the work of Donatello, Verrocchio, and other of the Renaissance sculptors. For in such a casecomparisons are anything but odious and become fascinating. In thefirst room there is, for example, a Mercury, isolated on the left, in marble, who is a blood relation of Donatello's bronze David inthe Bargello; and certain reliefs of merry children, on the right, low down, as one approaches the second room, are cousins of the samesculptor's cantoria romps. Not that Donatello ever reproduced theantique spirit as Michelangelo nearly did in his Bacchus, and Sansovinoabsolutely did in his Bacchus, both at the Bargello: Donatello wasof his time, and the spirit of his time animates his creations, buthe had studied the Greek art in Rome and profited by his lessons, and his evenly-balanced humane mind had a warm corner for paganjoyfulness. Among other statues in this first room is a Sacerdotessa, wearing a marble robe with long folds, whose hands can be seen throughthe drapery. Opposite the door are Bacchus and Ampelos, superblypagan, while a sleeping Cupid is most lovely. Among the various fineheads is one of Cicero, of an Unknown--No. 377--and of Homer in bronze(called by the photographers Aristophanes). But each thing in turn isalmost the best. The trouble is that the Uffizi is so vast, and theRenaissance seems to be so eminently the only proper study of mankindwhen one is here, that to attune oneself to the enjoyment of antiquesculpture needs a special effort which not all are ready to make. In the centre of the next room is the punctual Hermaphrodite withoutwhich no large Continental gallery is complete. But more worthy ofattention is the torso of a faun on the left, on a revolving pedestalwhich (unlike those in the Bargello, as we shall discover) really doesrevolve and enables you to admire the perfect back. There is also atorso in basalt or porphyry which one should study from all points, and on the walls some wonderful portions of a frieze from the AraPacis, erected in Rome, B. C. 139, with wonderful figures of men, women, and children on it. Among the heads is a colossal Alexander, very fine indeed, a beautiful Antoninus, a benign and silly Romanlady in whose existence one can quite believe, and a melancholySeneca. Look also at Nos. 330 and 332, on the wall: 330, a charminggenius, carrying one of Jove's thunderbolts; and 332, a boy who issheer Luca della Robbia centuries before his birth. I ought to add that, in addition to the various salons in the Uffizi, the long corridors are hung with pictures too, in chronological order, the earliest of all being to the right of the entrance door, and inthe corridors there is also some admirable statuary. But the pictureshere, although not the equals of those in the rooms, receive far toolittle attention, while the sculpture receives even less, whether thebeutiful full-length athletes or the reliefs on the cisterns, severalof which have riotous Dionysian processions. On the stairs, too, aresome very beautiful works; while at the top, in the turnstile room, isthe original of the boar which Tacca copied in bronze for the MercatoNuovo, and just outside it are the Medici who were chiefly concernedwith the formation of the collection. On the first landing, nearestthe ground, is a very beautiful and youthful Bacchus. The ceilingsof the Uffizi rooms and corridors also are painted, thoughtfullyand dexterously, in the Pompeian manner; but there are limits to thereceptive capacity of travellers' eyes, and I must plead guilty toconsistently neglecting them. CHAPTER XII "Aërial Fiesole" Andrea del Sarto--Fiesole sights--The Villa Palmieriand the "Decameron"--Botticini's picture in the NationalGallery--S. Francesco--The Roman amphitheatre--The Etruscan museum--Asculptor's walk--The Badia di Fiesole--Brunelleschi again--Giovannidi San Giovanni. After all these pictures, how about a little climbing? From so manywindows in Florence, along so many streets, from so many loggias andtowers, and perhaps, above all, from the Piazzale di Michelangelo, Fiesole is to be seen on her hill, with the beautiful campanile ofher church in the dip between the two eminences, that very soon onecomes to feel that this surely is the promised land. Florence liesso low, and the delectable mountain is so near and so alluring. ButI am not sure that to dream of Fiesole as desirable, and to murmurits beautiful syllables, is not best. Let me sitHere by the window with your hand in mine, And look a half-hour forth on Fiesole --that was Andrea's way and not an unwise one. For Fiesole atnearer view can easily disappoint. It is beautifully set on itshill and it has a fascinating past; but the journey thither onfoot is very wearisome, by the electric tram vexatious and noisy, and in a horse-drawn carriage expensive and cruel; and when youare there you become once more a tourist without alleviation andare pestered by beggars, and by nice little girls who ought toknow better, whose peculiar importunacy it is to thrust flowersinto the hand or buttonhole without any denial. What should havebeen a mountain retreat from the city has become a kind of Devil'sDyke. But if one is resolute, and, defying all, walks up to thelittle monastery of S. Francesco at the very top of the hill, onemay rest almost undisturbed, with Florence in the valley below, andgardens and vineyards undulating beneath, and a monk or two ascendingor descending the steps, and three or four picture-postcard hawkersgambling in a corner, and lizards on the wall. Here it is good to bein the late afternoon, when the light is mellowing; and if you wanttea there is a little loggia a few yards down this narrow steep pathwhere it may be found. How many beautiful villas in which one couldbe happy sunning oneself among the lizards lie between this pointand Florence! Who, sitting here, can fail to think that? In walking to Fiesole one follows the high walls of the Villa Palmieri, which is now very private American property, but is famous for ever asthe first refuge of Boccaccio's seven young women and three young menwhen they fled from plague-stricken Florence in 1348 and told tales forten halcyon days. It is now generally agreed that if Boccaccio had anyparticular house in his mind it was this. It used to be thought thatthe Villa Poggio Gherardo, Mrs. Ross's beautiful home on the way toSettignano, was the first refuge, and the Villa Palmieri the second, but the latest researches have it that the Palmieri was the first andthe Podere della Fonte, or Villa di Boccaccio, as it is called, nearCamerata, a little village below S. Domenico, the other. The VillaPalmieri has another and somewhat different historical association, for it was there that Queen Victoria resided for a while in 1888. Butthe most interesting thing of all about it is the circumstance thatit was the home of Matteo Palmieri, the poet, and Botticelli's friendand fellow-speculator on the riddle of life. Palmieri was the authorof a remarkable poem called "La Citta della Vita" (The City of Life)which developed a scheme of theology that had many attractions toBotticelli's curious mind. The poem was banned by Rome, althoughnot until after its author's death. In our National Gallery is apicture which used to be considered Botticelli's--No. 1126, "TheAssumption of the Virgin"--especially as it is mentioned with someparticularity by Vasari, together with the circumstance that thepoet and painter devised it in collaboration, in which the poem istranslated into pigment. As to the theology, I say nothing, nor as toits new ascription to Botticini; but the picture has a greater interestfor us in that it contains a view of Florence with its wall of towersaround it in about 1475. The exact spot where the painter sat has beenidentified by Miss Stokes in "Six Months in the Apennines". On theleft immediately below the painter's vantage-ground is the Mugnone, with a bridge over it. On the bank in front is the Villa Palmieri, and on the picture's extreme left is the Badia of Fiesole. On leaving S. Domenico, if still bent on walking, one should keepstraight on and not follow the tram lines to the right. This is theold and terribly steep road which Lorenzo the Magnificent and hisfriends Politian and Pico della Mirandola had to travel whenever theyvisited the Medici villa, just under Fiesole, with its drive lined withcypresses. Here must have been great talk and much conviviality. Itis now called the Villa McCalmont. Once at Fiesole, by whatever means you reach it, do not neglect toclimb the monastery steps to the very top. It is a day of climbing, and a hundred or more steps either way mean nothing now. For hereis a gentle little church with swift, silent monks in it, and a fewflowers in bowls, and a religious picture by that strange Piero diCosimo whose heart was with the gods in exile; and the view of MonteCeceri, on the other side of Fiesole, seen through the cypresses here, which could not be better in disposition had Benozzo Gozzoli himselfarranged them, is very striking and memorable. Fiesole's darling son is Mino the sculptor--the "Raphael of thechisel"--whose radiant Madonnas and children and delicate tombs maybe seen here and there all over Florence. The piazza is named afterhim; he is celebrated on a marble slab outside the museum, where allthe famous names of the vicinity may be read too; and in the churchis one of his most charming groups and finest heads. They are in alittle chapel on the right of the choir. The head is that of BishopSalutati, humorous, wise, and benign, and the group represents theadoration of a merry little Christ by a merry little S. John andothers. As for the church itself, it is severe and cool, with suchstone columns in it as must last for ever. But the main interest of Fiesole to most people is not thecypress-covered hill of S. Francesco; not the view from the summit;not the straw mementoes; not the Mino relief in the church; butthe Roman arena. The excavators have made of this a very completeplace. One can stand at the top of the steps and reconstruct itall--the audience, the performance, the performers. A very little timespent on building would be needed to restore the amphitheatre to itsoriginal form. Beyond it are baths, and in a hollow the remains of atemple with the altar where it ever was; and then one walks a littlefarther and is on the ancient Etruscan wall, built when Fiesole was anEtruscan fortified hill city. So do the centuries fall away here! Buteverywhere, among the ancient Roman stones so massive and exact, and the Etruscan stones, are the wild flowers which Luca Signorellipainted in that picture in the Uffizi which I love so much. After the amphitheatre one visits the Museum--with the same ticket--alittle building filled with trophies of the spade. There is nothingvery wonderful--nothing to compare with the treasures of theArchaeological Museum in Florence--but it is well worth a visit. On leaving the Museum on the last occasion that I was there--inApril--I walked to Settignano. The road for a while is betweenhouses, for Fiesole stretches a long way farther than one suspects, very high, looking over the valley of the Mugnone; and then after aperiod between pine trees and grape-hyacinths one turns to the rightand begins to descend. Until Poggio del Castello, a noble villa, on an isolated eminence, the descent is very gradual, with views ofFlorence round the shoulder of Monte Ceceri; but afterwards the roadwinds, to ease the fall, and the wayfarer turns off into the woods andtumbles down the hill by a dry water-course, amid crags and stones, to the beginnings of civilization again, at the Via di Desiderio daSettignano, a sculptor who stands to his native town in preciselythe same relation as Mino to his. Settignano is a mere village, with villas all about it, andthe thing to remember there is not only that Desiderio was bornthere but that Michelangelo's foster-mother was the wife of alocal stone-cutter--stone-cutting at that time being the stapleindustry. On the way back to Florence in the tram, one passes on theright a gateway surmounted by statues of the poets, the Villa PoggioGherardo, of which I have spoken earlier in the chapter. There is novilla with a nobler mien than this. That is one walk from Fiesole. Another is even more a sculptors' way:for it would include Maiano too, where Benedetto was born. The roadis by way of the tram lines to that acute angle just below Fiesolewhen they turn back to S. Domenico, and so straight on down the hill. But if one is returning to Florence direct after leaving Fiesole itis well to walk down the precipitous paths to S. Domenico, and beforeagain taking the tram visit the Badia overlooking the valley of theMugnone. This is done by turning to the right just opposite the churchof S. Domenico, which has little interest structurally but is famousas being the chapel of the monastery where Fra Angelico was once amonk. The Badia (Abbey) di Fiesole, as it now is, was built on thesite of an older monastery, by Cosimo Pater. Here Marsilio Ficino'sPlatonic Academy used to meet, in the loggia and in the little templewhich one gains from the cloisters, and here Pico della Mirandolacomposed his curious gloss on Genesis. The dilapidated marble façade of the church and its rugged stone-workare exceedingly ancient--dating in fact from the eleventh century;the new building is by Brunelleschi and to my mind is one of hismost beautiful works, its lovely proportions and cool, unfrettedwhite spaces communicating even more pleasure than the Pazzi chapelitself. The decoration has been kept simple and severe, and the colouris just the grey pietra serena of Fiesole, of which the lovely archesare made, all most exquisitely chiselled, and the pure white of thewalls and ceilings. This church was a favourite with the Medici, andthe youthful Giovanni, the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent, receivedhis cardinal's hat here in 1492, at the age of sixteen. He afterwardsbecame Pope Leo X. How many of the boys, now in the school--for themonastery has become a Jesuit school--will, one wonders, rise tosimilar eminence. In the beautiful cloisters we have the same colour scheme asin the church, and here again Brunelleschi's miraculous geniusfor proportion is to be found. Here and there are foliations andother exquisite tracery by pupils of Desiderio da Settignano. Therefectory has a high-spirited fresco by that artist whose room inthe Uffizi is so carefully avoided by discreet chaperons--Giovanni diSan Giovanni--representing Christ eating at a table, his ministrantsbeing a crowd of little roguish angels and cherubim, one of whom (onthe right) is in despair at having broken a plate. In the entrancelobby is a lavabo by Mino da Fiesole, with two little boys of thewhitest and softest marble on it, which is worth study. And now we will return to the heart of Florence once more. CHAPTER XIII The Badia and Dante Filippino Lippi--Buffalmacco--Mino da Fiesole--The Dante quarter--Danteand Beatrice--Monna Tessa--Gemma Donati--Dante in exile--Dantememorials in Florence--The Torre della Castagna--The Borgo degliAlbizzi and the old palaces--S. Ambrogio--Mino's tabernacle--Waysidemasterpieces--S. Egidio. Opposite the Bargello is a church with a very beautiful doorwaydesigned by Benedetto da Rovezzano. This church is known as the Badia, and its delicate spire is a joy in the landscape from every point ofvantage. The Badia is very ancient, but the restorers have been busyand little of Arnolfo's thirteenth-century work is left. It is chieflyfamous now for its Filippino Lippi and two tombs by Mino da Fiesole, but historically it is interesting as being the burial-place of thechief Florentine families in the Middle Ages and as being the sceneof Boccaccio's lectures on Dante in 1373. The Filippino altar-piece, which represents S. Bernard's Vision of the Virgin (a subject we shallsee treated very beautifully by Fra Bartolommeo at the Accademia)is one of the most perfect and charming pictures by this artist:very grave and real and sweet, and the saint's hands exquisitelypainted. The figure praying in the right-hand corner is the patron, Piero di Francesco del Pugliese, who commissioned this picture for thechurch of La Campora, outside the Porta Romana, where it was honoureduntil 1529, when Clement VII's troops advancing, it was brought herefor safety and has here remained. Close by--in the same chapel--is a little door which the sacristanwill open, disclosing a portion of Arnolfo's building with perishingfrescoes which are attributed to Buffalmacco, an artist as to whosereality much scepticism prevails. They are not in themselves of muchinterest, although the sacristan's eagerness should not be discouraged;but Buffalmacco being Boccaccio's, Sacchetti's, Vasari's (and, later, Anatole France's) amusing hero, it is pleasant to look at his work andthink of his freakishness. Buffalmacco (if he ever existed) was oneof the earlier painters, flourishing between 1311 and 1350, and wasa pupil of Andrea Tafi. This simple man he plagued very divertingly, once frightening him clean out of his house by fixing little lightedcandles to the backs of beetles and steering them into Tafi's bedroomat night. Tafi was terrified, but on being told by Buffalmacco (who wasa lazy rascal) that these devils were merely showing their objectionto early rising, he became calm again, and agreed to lie in bed toa reasonable hour. Cupidity, however, conquering, he again orderedhis pupil to be up betimes, when the beetles again re-appeared andcontinued to do so until the order was revoked. The sculptor Mino da Fiesole, whom we shall shortly see again, at theBargello, in portrait busts and Madonna reliefs, is at his best here, in the superb monument to Count Ugo, who founded, with his mother, the Benedictine Abbey of which the Badia is the relic. Here all Mino'ssweet thoughts, gaiety and charm are apparent, together with theperfection of radiant workmanship. The quiet dignity of the recumbentfigure is no less masterly than the group above it. Note the impulsiveurgency of the splendid Charity, with her two babies, and the quietbeauty of the Madonna and Child above all, while the proportions anddelicate patterns of the tomb as a whole still remain to excite one'spleasure and admiration. We shall see many tombs in Florence--few notbeautiful--but none more joyously accomplished than this. The tombof Carlo Marsuppini in S. Croce by Desiderio da Settignano, whichawaits us, was undoubtedly the parent of the Ugo, Mino following hismaster very closely; but his charm was his own. According to Vasari, the Ugo tomb was considered to be Mino's finest achievement, and hedeliberately made the Madonna and Child as like the types of hisbeloved Desiderio as he could. It was finished in 1481, and Minodied in 1484, from a chill following over-exertion in moving heavystones. Mino also has here a monument to Bernardo Giugni, a famousgonfalonier in the time of Cosimo de' Medici, marked by the samedistinction, but not quite so memorable. The Ugo is his masterpiece. The carved wooden ceiling, which is a very wonderful piece of workand of the deepest and most glorious hue, should not be forgotten;but nothing is easier than to overlook ceilings. The cloisters are small, but they atone for that--if it is a fault--byhaving a loggia. From the loggia the top of the noble tower of thePalazzo Vecchio is seen to perfection. Upon the upper walls is aseries of frescoes illustrating the life of S. Benedict which musthave been very gay and spirited once but are now faded. The Badia may be said to be the heart of the Dante quarter. Dante mustoften have been in the church before it was restored as we now see it, and a quotation from the "Divine Comedy" is on its façade. The ViaDante and the Piazza Donati are close by, and in the Via Dante are manyreminders of the poet besides his alleged birthplace. Elsewhere in thecity we find incised quotations from his poem; but the Baptistery--his"beautiful San Giovanni"--is the only building in the city proper nowremaining which Dante would feel at home in could he return to it, andwhere we can feel assured of sharing his presence. The same pavement isthere on which his feet once stood, and on the same mosaic of Christabove the altar would his eyes have fallen. When Dante was exiled in1302 the cathedral had been in progress only for six or eight years;but it is known that he took the deepest interest in its construction, and we have seen the stone marking the place where he sat, watchingthe builders. The façade of the Badia of Fiesole and the church ofS. Miniato can also remember Dante; no others. Here, however, we are on that ground which is richest in personalassociations with him and his, for in spite of re-building andcertain modern changes the air is heavy with antiquity in thesenarrow streets and passages where the poet had his childhood andyouth. The son of a lawyer named Alighieri, Dante was born in1265, but whether or not in this Casa Dante is an open question, and it was in the Baptistery that he received the name of Durante, afterwards abbreviated to Dante--Durante meaning enduring, and Dantegiving. Those who have read the "Vita Nuova, " either in the originalor in Rossetti's translation, may be surprised to learn that theboy was only nine when he first met his Beatrice, who was seven, and for ever passed into bondage to her. Who Beatrice was is againa mystery, but it has been agreed to consider her in real life adaughter of Folco Portinari, a wealthy Florentine and the founder ofthe hospital of S. Maria Nuova, one of whose descendants commissionedHugo van der Goes to paint the great triptych in the Uffizi. Folco'stomb is in S. Egidio, the hospital church, while in the passage tothe cloisters is a stone figure of Monna Tessa (of whom we are aboutto see a coloured bust in the Bargello), who was not only Beatrice'snurse (if Beatrice were truly of the Portinari) but the instigator, it is said, of Folco's deed of charity. Of Dante's rapt adoration of his lady, the "Vita Nuova"tells. According to that strangest monument of devotion it was notuntil another nine years had passed that he had speech of her; andthen Beatrice, meeting him in the street, saluted him as she passedhim with such ineffable courtesy and grace that he was lifted into aseventh heaven of devotion and set upon the writing of his book. Thetwo seem to have had no closer intercourse: Beatrice shone distantlylike a star and her lover worshipped her with increasing loyaltyand fervour, overlaying the idea of her, as one might say, with goldand radiance, very much as we shall see Fra Angelico adding glory tothe Madonna and Saints in his pictures, and with a similar intensityof ecstasy. Then one day Beatrice married, and not long afterwards, being always very fragile, she died, at the age of twenty-three. Thefact that she was no longer on earth hardly affected her poet, whose worship of her had always so little of a physical character;and she continued to dominate his thoughts. In 1293, however, Dante married, one Gemma Donati of the powerfulGuelph family of that name, of which Corso Donati was the turbulenthead; and by her he had many children. For Gemma, however, he seemsto have had no affection; and when in 1301 he left Florence, never toreturn, he left his wife for ever too. In 1289 Dante had been presentat the battle of Campaldino, fighting with the Guelphs against theGhibellines, and on settling down in Florence and taking to politics itwas as a Guelph, or rather as one of that branch of the Guelph partywhich had become White--the Bianchi--as opposed to the other partywhich was Black--the Neri. The feuds between these divisions took theplace of those between the Guelphs and Ghibellines, since Florencewas never happy without internal strife, and it cannot have addedto Dante's home comfort that his wife was related to Corso Donati, who led the Neri and swaggered in his bullying way about the city withproprietary, intolerant airs that must have been infuriating to a manwith Dante's stern sense of right and justice. It was Corso who broughtabout Dante's exile; but he himself survived only six years, and wasthen killed, by his own wish, on his way to execution, rather than behumiliated in the city in which he had swayed. Dante, whose geniusdevised a more lasting form of reprisal than any personal encountercould be, has depicted him in the "Purgatorio" as on the road to Hell. But this is going too fast. In 1300, when Dante was thirty-five, he was sufficiently important to be made one of the six priors ofthe city, and in that capacity was called upon to quell a Neri andBianchi disturbance. It is characteristic of him that he was a partyto the banishment of the leaders of both factions, among whom washis closest friend, Guido Cavalcanti the poet, who was one of theBianchi. Whether it was because of Guide's illness in his exile, orfrom what motive, we shall not know; but the sentence was lightened inthe case of this Bianco, a circumstance which did not add to Dante'schances when the Neri, having plotted successfully with Charles ofValois, captured supreme power in Florence. This was in the year 1301, Dante being absent from that city on an embassy to Rome to obtain helpfor the Bianchi. He never came back; for the Neri plans succeeded;the Neri assumed control; and in January, 1302, he was formally finedand banished. The nominal charge against him was of misappropriatingfunds while a prior; but that was merely a matter of form. His realoffence was in being one of the Bianchi, an enemy of the Neri, anda man of parts. In the rest of Dante's life Florence had no part, except in histhoughts. How he viewed her the "Divine Comedy" tells us, and that helonged to return we also know. The chance was indeed once offered, but under the impossible condition that he should do public penancein the Baptistery for his offence. This he refused. He wandered hereand there, and settled finally in Ravenna, where he died in 1321. The"Divine Comedy" anticipating printing by so many years--the inventiondid not reach Florence until 1471--Dante could not make much popularway as a poet before that time; but to his genius certain Florentineswere earlier no strangers, not only by perusing MS. Copies of hisgreat work, which by its richness in Florentine allusions excitedan interest apart altogether from that created by its beauty, but bypublic lectures on the poem, delivered in the churches by order ofthe Signoria. The first Dante professor to be appointed was GiovanniBoccaccio, the author of the "Decameron, " who was born in 1313, eight years before Dante's death, and became an enthusiast upon thepoet. The picture in the Duomo was placed there in 1465. Then cameprinting to Florence and Dante passed quickly into his countrymen'sthoughts and language. Michelangelo, who was born in time--1475--to enjoy in Lorenzo theMagnificent's house the new and precious advantage of printed books, became as a boy a profound student of the poet, and when later anappeal was made from Florence to the Pope to sanction the removal ofDante's bones to Florence, Michelangelo was among the signatories. Butit was not done. His death-mask from Ravenna is in the Bargello:a few of his bones and their coffin are still in Ravenna, in themonastery of Classe, piously preserved in a room filled with Danterelics and literature; his tomb is elsewhere at Ravenna, a shrinevisited by thousands every year. Ever since has Dante's fame been growing, so that only the Bible hasled to more literature; and to-day Florence is more proud of him thanany of her sons, except perhaps Michelangelo. We have seen one ortwo reminders of him already; more are here where we stand. We haveseen the picture in honour of him which the Republic set up in thecathedral; his head on a beautiful inlaid door in the Palazzo Vecchio, the building where his sentence of banishment was devised and carried, to be followed by death sentence thrice repeated (burning alive, to be exact); and we have seen the head-quarters of the FlorentineDante society in the guild house at Or San Michele. We have stillto see his statue opposite S. Croce, another fresco head in S. MariaNovella, certain holograph relics at the library at S. Lorenzo, andhis head again by his friend Giotto, in the Bargello, where he wouldhave been confined while waiting for death had he been captured. Dante's house has been rebuilt, very recently, and next to it is anewer building still, with a long inscription in Italian upon it, to the effect that the residence of Bella and Bellincione Alighieristood hereabouts, and in that abode was Dante born. The Commune ofFlorence, it goes on to say, having secured possession of the site, "built this edifice on the remains of the ancestral house as freshevidence of the public veneration of the divine poet". The Torre dellaCastagna, across the way, has an inscription in Italian, which may betranslated thus: "This Tower, the so-called Tower of the Chestnut, isthe solitary remnant of the head-quarters from which the Priors of theArts governed Florence, before the power and glory of the FlorentineCommune procured the erection of the Palace of the Signoria". Few persons in the real city of Florence, it may be said confidently, live in a house built for them; but hereabouts none at all. In fact, it is the exception anywhere near the centre of the city to live ina house built less than three centuries ago. Palaces abound, cut upinto offices, flats, rooms, and even cinema theatres. The telegraphoffice in the Via del Proconsolo is a palace commissioned by theStrozzi but never completed: hence its name, Nonfinito; next it isthe superb Palazzo Quaratesi, which Brunelleschi designed, now thehead-quarters of a score of firms and an Ecclesiastical School whencesounds of sacred song continually emerge. Since we have Mino da Fiesole in our minds and are on the subjectof old palaces let us walk from the Dante quarter in a straight linefrom the Corso, that very busy street of small shops, across the Viadel Proconsolo and down the Borgo degli Albizzi to S. Ambrogio, whereMino was buried. This Borgo is a street of palaces and an excellent onein which to reflect upon the strange habit which wealthy Florentinesthen indulged of setting their mansions within a few feet of thoseopposite. Houses--or rather fortresses--that must have cost fortunesand have been occupied by families of wealth and splendour wereerected so close to their vis-à-vis that two carts could not passabreast between them. Side by side contiguity one can understand, but not this other adjacence. Every ground floor window is barredlike a gaol. Those bars tell us something of the perils of life inFlorence in the great days of faction ambition; while the thicknessof the walls and solidity of construction tell us something too ofthe integrity of the Florentine builders. These ancient palaces, one feels, whatever may happen to them, can never fall to ruin. Suchstones as are placed one upon the other in the Pitti and the Strozziand the Riccardi nothing can displace. It is an odd thought thatseveral Florentine palaces and villas built before Columbus sailedfor America are now occupied by rich Americans, some of them drawpossibly much of their income from the manufacture of steel girdersfor sky-scrapers. These ancient streets with their stern and sombrepalaces specially touched the imagination of Dickens when he was inFlorence in 1844, but in his "Pictures from Italy" he gave the cityonly fugitive mention. The old prison, which then adjoined the PalazzoVecchio, and in which the prisoners could be seen, also moved him. The Borgo degli Albizzi, as I have said, is crowded withPalazzi. No. 24--and there is something very incongruous in palaceshaving numbers at all--is memorable in history as being one of thehomes of the Pazzi family who organized the conspiracy against theMedici in 1478, as I have related in the second chapter, and failedso completely. Donatello designed the coat of arms here. The palaceat No. 18 belonged to the Altoviti. No. 12 is the Palazzo Albizzi, the residence of one of the most powerful of the Florentine families, whose allies were all about them in this quarter, as it was wise to be. As a change from picture galleries, I can think of nothing moredelightful than to wander about these ancient streets, and, wherever acourtyard or garden shines, penetrate to it; stopping now and again toenjoy the vista, the red Duomo, or Giotto's tower, so often mountinginto the sky at one end, or an indigo Apennine at the other. Standingin the middle of the Via Ricasoli, for example, one has sight of both. At the Piazza S. Pietro we see one of the old towers of Florence, of which there were once so many, into which the women and childrenmight retreat in times of great danger, and here too is a series ofarches which fruit and vegetable shops make gay. The next Piazza is that of S. Ambrogio. This church is interestingnot only for doing its work in a poor quarter--one has the feeling atonce that it is a right church in the right place--but as containing, as I have said, the grave of Mino da Fiesole: Mino de' Poppi detto daFiesole, as the floor tablet has it. Over the altar of Mino's littlechapel is a large tabernacle from his hand, in which the gayest littleBoy gives the benediction, own brother to that one by Desiderio atS. Lorenzo. The tabernacle must be one of the master's finest works, and beneath it is a relief in which a priest pours something--perhapsthe very blood of Christ which is kept here--from one chalice toanother held by a kneeling woman, surrounded by other kneeling women, which is a marvel of flowing beauty and life. The lines of it arepeculiarly lovely. On the wall of the same little chapel is a fresco by Cosimo Rosselliwhich must once have been a delight, representing a procession ofCorpus Christi--this chapel being dedicated to the miracle of theSacrament--and it contains, according to Vasari, a speaking likeness ofPico della Mirandola. Other graves in the church are those of Cronaca, the architect of the Palazzo Vecchio's great Council Room, a friendof Savonarola and Rosselli's nephew by marriage; and Verrocchio, thesculptor, whose beautiful work we are now to see in the Bargello. Itis said that Lorenzo di Credi also lies here, and Albertinelli, who gave up the brush for innkeeping. Opposite the church, on a house at the corner of the Borgo S. Croceand the Via de' Macci, is a della Robbia saint--one of many suchmural works of art in Florence. Thus, at the corner of the Via Cavourand the Via de' Pucci, opposite the Riccardi palace, is a beautifulMadonna and Child by Donatello. In the Via Zannetti, which leadsout of the Via Cerretani, is a very pretty example by Mino, a fewhouses on the right. These are sculpture. And everywhere in the olderstreets you may see shrines built into the wall: there is even one inthe prison, in the Via dell' Agnolo, once the convent of the Murate, where Catherine de' Medici was imprisoned as a girl; but many of themare covered with glass which has been allowed to become black. A word or two on S. Egidio, the church of the great hospital ofS. Maria Nuova, might round off this chapter, since it was FolcoPortinari, Beatrice's father, who founded it. The hospital standsin a rather forlorn square a few steps from the Duomo, down the Viadell' Orivolo and then the first to the left; and it extends rightthrough to the Via degli Alfani in cloisters and ramifications. Thefaçade is in a state of decay, old frescoes peeling off it, but onepicture has been enclosed for protection--a gay and busy scene of theconsecration of the church by Pope Martin V. Within, it is a churchof the poor, notable for its general florid comfort (comparatively)and Folco's gothic tomb. In the chancel is a pretty little tabernacleby Mino, which used to have a bronze door by Ghiberti, but has it nolonger, and a very fine della Robbia Madonna and Child, probably byAndrea. Behind a grille, upstairs, sit the hospital nurses. In theadjoining cloisters--one of the high roads to the hospital proper--isthe ancient statue of old Monna Tessa, Beatrice's nurse, and, in aniche, a pretty symbolical painting of Charity by that curious painterGiovanni di San Giovanni. It was in the hospital that the famous Vander Goes triptych used to hang. A tablet on a house opposite S. Egidio, a little to the right, states that it was there that Ghiberti made the Baptistery gateswhich Michelangelo considered fit to be the portals of Paradise. CHAPTER XIV The Bargello Plastic art--Blood-soaked stones--The faithfulartists--Michelangelo--Italian custodians--The famousDavids--Michelangelo's tondo--Brutus--Benedetto daRovezzano--Donatello's life-work--The S. George--Verrocchio--Ghibertiand Brunelleschi and the Baptistery doors--Benvenuto Cellini--John ofBologna--Antonio Pollaiuolo--Verrocchio again--Mino da Fiesole--TheFlorentine wealth of sculpture--Beautiful ladies--The dellaRobbias--South Kensington and the Louvre. Before my last visit but one to Florence, plastic art was lessattractive to me than pictorial art. But now I am not sure. Atany rate when, here in England, I think of Florence, as so oftenI do, I find myself visiting in imagination the Bargello before theUffizi. Pictures in any number can bewilder and dazzle as much as theydelight. The eye tires. And so, it is true, can a multiplicity ofantique statuary such as one finds at the Vatican or at the Louvre;but a small collection of Renaissance work, so soft and human, as at the Bargello, is not only joy-giving but refreshing too. Thesoft contours soothe as well as enrapture the eye: the tenderness ofthe Madonnas, the gentleness of the Florentine ladies and youths, asVerrocchio and Mino da Fiesole, Donatello, and Pollaiuolo moulded them, calm one where the perfection of Phidias and Praxiteles excites. Hencethe very special charm of the Bargello, whose plastic treasures arecomparatively few and picked, as against the heaped profusion of paintin the Uffizi and the Pitti. It pairs off rather with the Accademia, and has this further point in common with that choicest of galleries, that Michelangelo's chisel is represented in both. The Bargello is at the corner of the Via Ghibellina in the narrowVia del Proconsolo--so narrow that if you take one step off thepavement a tram may easily sweep you into eternity; so narrow alsothat the real dignity of the Bargello is never to be properly seen, and one thinks of it rather for its inner court and staircase andits strong tower than for its massive façades. Its history is soakedin blood. It was built in the middle of the thirteenth century as theresidence of the chief magistrate of the city, the Capitano del popolo, or Podestà, first appointed soon after the return of the Guelphs in1251, and it so remained, with such natural Florentine vicissitudesas destruction by mobs and fire, for four hundred years, when, in1574, it was converted into a prison and place of execution and thehead-quarters of the police, and changed its name from the Palazzodel Podestà to that by which it is now known, so called after theBargello, or chief of the police. It is indeed fortunate that no rioters succeeded in obliteratingGiotto's fresco in the Bargello chapel, which he painted probably in1300, when his friend Dante was a Prior of the city. Giotto introducedthe portrait of Dante which has drawn so many people to this littleroom, together with portraits of Corso Donati, and Brunetto Latini, Dante's tutor. Whitewash covered it for two centuries. Dante's headhas been restored. It was in 1857 that the Bargello was again converted, this time to itspresent gracious office of preserving the very flower of Renaissanceplastic art. Passing through the entrance hall, which has a remarkable collection ofMedicean armour and weapons, and in which (I have read but not seen)is an oubliette under one of the great pillars, the famous court isgained and the famous staircase. Of this court what can I say? Itsquality is not to be communicated in words; and even the photographs ofit that are sold have to be made from pictures, which the assiduousSignor Giuliani, among others, is always so faithfully painting, stone for stone. One forgets all the horrors that once were enactedhere--the execution of honourable Florentine patriots whose onlyoffence was that in their service of this proud and beautiful city theydiffered from those in power; one thinks only of the soft light on theimmemorial walls, the sturdy graceful columns, the carved escutcheons, the resolute steps, the spaciousness and stern calm of it all. In the colonnade are a number of statues, the most famous of whichis perhaps the "Dying Adonis" which Baedeker gives to Michelangelobut the curator to Vincenzo di Rossi; an ascription that would annoyMichelangelo exceedingly, if it were a mistake, since Rossi was apupil of his enemy, the absurd Bandinelli. Mr. W. G. Waters, in his"Italian Sculptors, " considers not only that Michelangelo was thesculptor, but that the work was intended to form part of the tomb ofPope Julius. In the second room opposite the main entrance across thecourtyard, we come however to Michelangelo authentic and supreme, for here are his small David, his Brutus, his Bacchus, and a tondoof the Madonna and Child. According to Baedeker the Bacchus and the David revolve. Certainly theyare on revolving stands, but to say that they revolve is to disregardutterly the character of the Italian official. A catch holds each inits place, and any effort to release this or to induce the custodian torelease it is equally futile. "Chiuso" (closed), he replies, and thatis final. Useless to explain that the backs of statues can be beautifulas the front; that one of the triumphs of great statuary is its equalperfection from every point; that the revolving stand was not madefor a joke but for a serious purpose. "Chiuso, " he replies. The museumcustodians of Italy are either like this--jaded figures of apathy--orthey are enthusiasts. To each enthusiast there are ninety-nine of theother, who either sit in a kind of stupor and watch you with sullensuspicion, or clear their throats as no gentleman should. The resultis that when one meets the enthusiasts one remembers them. There isa little dark fellow in the Brera at Milan whose zeal in displayingthe merits of Mantegna's foreshortened Christ is as unforgettable asa striking piece of character-acting in a theatre. There is a morereserved but hardly less appreciative official in the Accademia atBologna with a genuine if incommunicable passion for Guido Reni. And, lastly, there is Alfred Branconi, at S. Croce, with his continual andrapturous "It is faine! It is faine!" but he is a private guide. TheBargello custodians belong to the other camp. The fondness of sculptors for David as a subject is due to the factthat the Florentines, who had spent so much of their time undertyrants and so much of their blood in resisting them, were captivatedby the idea of this stripling freeing his compatriots from Goliathand the Philistines. David, as I have said in my remarks on thePiazza della Signoria, stood to them, with Judith, as a champion ofliberty. He was alluring also on account of his youth, so attractiveto Renaissance sculptors and poets, and the Florentines' admirationwas not diminished by the circumstance that his task was a singularlylight one, since he never came to close quarters with his antagonistat all and had the Lord of Hosts on his side. A David of mythology, Perseus, another Florentine hero, a stripling with what looked likea formidable enemy, also enjoyed supernatural assistance. David appealed to the greatest sculptors of all--to Michelangelo, to Donatello, and to Verrocchio; and Michelangelo made two figures, one of which is here and the other at the Accademia, and Donatellotwo figures, both of which are here, so that, Verrocchio's examplebeing also here, very interesting comparisons are possible. Personally I put Michelangelo's small David first; it is the onein which, apart from its beauty, you can best believe. His colossalDavid seems to me one of the most glorious things in the world; but itis not David; not the simple, ruddy shepherd lad of the Bible. ThisDavid could obviously defeat anybody. Donatello's more famous David, in the hat, upstairs, is the most charming creature you ever saw, but it had been far better to call him something else. Both he andVerrocchio's David, also upstairs, are young tournament nobles ratherthan shepherd lads who have slung a stone at a Philistine bully. I seethem both--but particularly perhaps Verrocchio's--in the intervals ofstrife most acceptably holding up a lady's train, or lying at her feetreading one of Boccaccio's stories; neither could ever have watcheda flock. Donatello's second David, behind the more famous one, hasmore reality; but I would put Michelangelo's smaller one first. Andwhat beautiful marble it is--so rich and warm! One point which both Donatello's and Verrocchio's David emphasizesis the gulf that was fixed between the Biblical and religiousconception of the youthful psalmist and that of these sculptors of theRenaissance. One can, indeed, never think of Donatello as a religiousartist. Serious, yes; but not religious, or at any rate not religiousin the too common sense of the word, in the sense of appertainingto a special reverential mood distinguished from ordinary moods ofdailiness. His David, as I have said, is a comely, cultured boy, who belongs to the very flower of chivalry and romance. Verrocchio'sis akin to him, but he has less radiant mastery. Donatello's Davidmight be the young lord; Verrocchio's, his page. Here we see the newspirit, the Renaissance, at work, for though religion called it intobeing and the Church continued to be its patron, it rapidly dividedinto two halves, and while the painters were bringing all theirgenius to glorify sacred history, the scholars were endeavouring tohumanize it. In this task they had no such allies as the sculptors, and particularly Donatello, who, always thinking independently andvigorously, was their best friend. Donatello's David fought also morepowerfully for the modern spirit (had he known it) than ever he couldhave done in real life with such a large sword in such delicate hands;for by being the first nude statue of a Biblical character, he madesimpler the way to all humanists in whatever medium they worked. Michelangelo was not often tender. Profoundly sad he could be: indeedhis own head, in bronze, at the Accademia, might stand for melancholyand bitter world-knowledge; but seldom tender; yet the Madonna andChild in the circular bas-relief in this ground-floor room havesomething very nigh tenderness, and a greatness that none of theother Italian sculptors, however often they attempted this subject, ever reached. The head of Mary in this relief is, I think, one of themost beautiful things in Florence, none the less so for the charminghead-dress which the great austere artist has given her. The Childis older than is usual in such groups, and differs in another way, for tiring of a reading lesson, He has laid His arm upon the book:a pretty touch. Michelangelo's Bacchus, an early work, is opposite. It is a remarkableproof of his extraordinary range that the same little room shouldcontain the David, the Madonna, the Brutus, and the Bacchus. InDavid one can believe, as I have said, as the young serious stalwartof the Book of Kings. The Madonna, although perhaps a shade toointellectual--or at any rate more intellectual and commanding thanthe other great artists have accustomed us to think of her--has asweet gravity and power and almost domestic tenderness. The Brutusis powerful and modern and realistic; while Bacchus is steeped in theGreek spirit, and the little faun hiding behind him is the very essenceof mischief. Add to these the fluid vigour of the unfinished reliefof the Martyrdom of S. Andrew, No. 126, and you have five examples ofhuman accomplishment that would be enough without the other Florentineevidences at all--the Medici chapel tombs and the Duomo Pieta. The inscription under the Brutus says: "While the sculptor was carvingthe statue of Brutus in marble, he thought of the crime and heldhis hand"; and the theory is that Michelangelo was at work upon thishead at Rome when, in 1537, Lorenzino de' Medici, who claimed to bea modern Brutus, murdered Alessandro de' Medici. But it might easilyhave been that the sculptor was concerned only with Brutus the friendof Cæsar and revolted at his crime. The circumstance that the headis unfinished matters nothing. Once seen it can never be forgotten. Although Michelangelo is, as always, the dominator, this room hasother possessions to make it a resort of visitors. At the end is afireplace from the Casa Borgherini, by Benedetto da Rovezzano, whichprobably has not an equal, although the pietra serena of which it ismade is a horrid hue; and on the walls are fragments of the tomb ofS. Giovanni Gualberto at Vallombrosa, designed by the same artist butnever finished. Benedetto (1474-1556) has a peculiar interest to theEnglish in having come to England in 1524 at the bidding of CardinalWolsey to design a tomb for that proud prelate. On Wolsey's disgrace, Henry VIII decided that the tomb should be continued for his own bones;but the sculptor died first and it was unfinished. Later Charles I castenvious eyes upon it and wished to lie within it; but circumstancesdeprived him too of the honour. Finally, after having been despoiledof certain bronze additions, the sarcophagus was used for the remainsof Nelson, which it now holds, in St. Paul's crypt. The Borgherinifireplace is a miracle of exquisite work, everything having receivedthought, the delicate traceries on the pillars not less than thefrieze. The fireplace is in perfect condition, not one head havingbeen knocked off, but the Gualberto reliefs are badly damaged, yetfull of life. The angel under the saint's bier in No. 104 almost moves. In this room look also at the beautiful blades of barley on thepillars in the corner close to Brutus, and the lovely frieze by anunknown hand above Michelangelo's Martyrdom of S. Andrew, and thecarving upon the two niches for statues on either side of the door. The little room through which one passes to the Michelangelos maywell be lingered in. There is a gravely fine floor-tomb of a nunto the left of the door--No. 20--which one would like to see in itsproper position instead of upright against the wall; and a stone fontin the middle which is very fine. There is also a beautiful tomb byGiusti da Settignano, and the iron gates are worth attention. From Michelangelo let us ascend the stairs, past the splendid gates, to Donatello; and here a word about that sculptor, for though wemeet him again and again in Florence (yet never often enough) it isin the upper room in the Bargello that he is enthroned. Of Donatellothere is nothing known but good, and good of the most captivatingvariety. Not only was he a great creative genius, equally the firstmodern sculptor and the sanest, but he was himself tall and comely, open-handed, a warm friend, humorous and of vigorous intellect. Ahint of the affection in which he was held is obtained from his nameDonatello, which is a pet diminutive of Donato--his full style beingDonato di Niccolò di Betto Bardi. Born in 1386, four years beforeFra Angelico and nearly a century after Giotto, he was the son of awell-to-do wool-comber who was no stranger to the perils of politicalenergy in these times. Of Donatello's youth little is known, but it isalmost certain that he helped Ghiberti with his first Baptistery doors, being thirteen when that sculptor began upon them. At sixteen he washimself enrolled as a sculptor. It was soon after this that, as I havesaid in the first chapter, he accompanied his friend Brunelleschi, who was thirteen years his senior, to Rome; and returning alone hebegan work in Florence in earnest, both for the cathedral and campanileand for Or San Michele. In 1425 he took into partnership Michelozzo, and became, with him, a protégé of Cosimo de' Medici, with whom bothcontinued on friendly terms for the rest of their lives. In 1433 hewas in Rome again, probably not sorry to be there since Cosimo hadbeen banished and had taken Michelozzo with him. On the triumphantreturn of Cosimo in 1434 Donatello's most prosperous period began;for he was intimate with the most powerful man in Florence, washonoured by him, and was himself at the useful age of forty-four. Of Donatello as an innovator I have said something above, inconsidering the Florentine Davids, but he was also the inventor ofthat low relief in which his school worked, called rilievo stiacciato, of which there are some excellent examples at South Kensington. InGhiberti's high relief, breaking out often into completely detachedfigures, he was also a master, as we shall see at S. Lorenzo. But hisgreatest claim to distinction is his psychological insight alliedto perfect mastery of form. His statues were not only the firstreally great statues since the Greeks, but are still (always leavingMichelangelo on one side as abnormal) the greatest modern examplesjudged upon a realistic basis. Here in the Bargello, in originals andin casts, he may be adequately appreciated; but to Padua his admirersmust certainly go, for the bronze equestrian statue of Gattamelata isthere. Donatello was painted by his friend Masaccio at the Carmine, but the fresco has perished. He is to be seen in the Uffizi portico, although that is probably a fancy representation; and again on a tabletin the wall opposite the apse of the Duomo. The only contemporaryportrait (and this is very doubtful) is in a picture in the Louvregiven to Uccello--a serious, thoughtful, bearded face with steady, observant eyes: one of five heads, the others being Giotto, Manetti, Brunelleschi, and Uccello himself. Donatello, who never married, but lived for much of his life with hismother and sister, died at a great age, cared for both by Cosimo de'Medici and his son and successor Piero. He was buried with Cosimoin S. Lorenzo. Vasari tells us that he was free, affectionate, andcourteous, but of a high spirit and capable of sudden anger, as whenhe destroyed with a blow a head he had made for a mean patron whoobjected to its very reasonable price. "He thought, " says Vasari, "nothing of money, keeping it in a basket suspended from the ceiling, so that all his workmen and friends took what they wanted withoutsaying anything. " He was as careless of dress as great artists haveever been, and of a handsome robe which Cosimo gave him he complainedthat it spoiled his work. When he was dying his relations affectedgreat concern in the hope of inheriting a farm at Prato, but he toldthem that he had left it to the peasant who had always toiled there, and he would not alter his will. The Donatello collection in the Bargello has been made representativeby the addition of casts. The originals number ten: there is alsoa cast of the equestrian statue of Gattemalata at Padua, which is, I suppose, next to Verrocchio's Bartolommeo Colleoni at Venice, thefinest equestrian statue that exists; heads from various collections, including M. Dreyfus' in Paris, although Dr. Bode now gives thatcharming example to Donatello's pupil Desiderio; and variousother masterpieces elsewhere. But it is the originals that chieflyinterest us, and first of these in bronze is the David, of which Ihave already spoken, and first of these in marble the S. George. ThisGeorge is just such a resolute, clean, warlike idealist as one dreamshim. He would kill a dragon, it is true; but he would eat and sleepafter it and tell the story modestly and not without humour. By ahappy chance the marble upon which Donatello worked had light veinsrunning through it just where the head is, with the result that theface seems to possess a radiance of its own. This statue was made forOr San Michele, where it used to stand until 1891, when the presentbronze replica that takes its place was made. The spirited marblefrieze underneath it at Or San Michele is the original and has beenthere for centuries. It was this S. George whom Ruskin took as thehead and inspiration of his Saint George's Guild. The David is interesting not only in itself but as being the firstisolated statue of modern times. It was made for Cosimo de' Medici, to stand in the courtyard of the Medici palace (now the Riccardi), and until that time, since antiquity, no one had made a statue tostand on a pedestal and be observable from all points. Hitherto modernsculptors had either made reliefs or statues for niches. It was alsothe first nude statue of modern times; and once again one has thesatisfaction of recognizing that the first was the best. At any rate, no later sculptor has made anything more charming than this figure, or more masterly within its limits. After the S. George and the bronze David, the two most memorable thingsare the adorable bronze Amorino in its quaint little trousers--orperhaps not Amorino at all, since it is trampling on a snake, which such little sprites did not do--and the coloured terra-cottabust called Niccolò da Uzzano, so like life as to be after a whiledisconcerting. The sensitiveness of the mouth can never have beenexcelled. The other originals include the gaunt John the Baptist withits curious little moustache, so far removed from the Amorino and soadmirable a proof of the sculptor's vigilant thoughtfulness in allhe did; the relief of the infant John, one of the most animated ofthe heads (the Baptist at all periods of his life being a favouritewith this sculptor); three bronze heads, of which those of the YoungGentleman and the Roman Emperor remain most clearly in my mind. Butthe authorship of the Roman Emperor is very doubtful. And lastly theglorious Marzocco--the lion from the front of the Palazzo Vecchio, firmly holding the Florentine escutcheon against the world. Florencehas other Donatellos--the Judith in the Loggia de' Lanzi, the figureson Giotto's campanile, the Annunciation in S. Croce, and above allthe cantoria in the Museum of the Cathedral; but this room holds mostof his strong sweet genius. Here (for there are seldom more than twoor three persons in it) you can be on terms with him. After the Donatellos we should see the other Renaissance sculpture. Butfirst the Carrand collection of ivories, pictures, jewels, carvings, vestments, plaquettes, and objets d'art, bequeathed to Florencein 1888. Everything here is good and worth examination. Among theoutstanding things is a plaquette, No. 393, a Satyr and a Bacchante, attributed to Donatello, under the title "Allegory of Spring, " whichis the work of a master and a very riot of mythological imagery. Theneighbouring plaquettes, many of them of the school of Donatello, are all beautiful. We now find the sixth salon, to see Verrocchio's David, of which I havealready spoken. This wholly charming boy, a little nearer life perhapsthan Donatello's, although not quite so radiantly distinguished, illustrates the association of Verrocchio and Leonardo as clearlyas any of the paintings do; for the head is sheer Leonardo. At thePalazzo Vecchio we saw Verrocchio's boy with the dolphin--that happybronze lyric--and outside Or San Michele his Christ and S. Thomas, inDonatello and Michelozzo's niche, with the flying cherubim beneath. Butas with Donatello, so with Verrocchio, one must visit the Bargelloto see him, in Florence, most intimately. For here are not only hisDavid, which once known can never be forgotten and is as full of theRenaissance spirit as anything ever fashioned, whether in bronze, marble, or paint, but--upstairs--certain other wonderfully beautifulthings to which we shall come, and, that being so, I would like hereto say a little about their author. Verrocchio is a nickname, signifying the true eye. Andrea's real namewas de' Cioni; he is known to fame as Andrea of the true eye, and sincehe had acquired this style at a time when every eye was true enough, his must have been true indeed. It is probable that he was a pupilof Donatello, who in 1435, when Andrea was born, was forty-nine, andin time he was to become the master of Leonardo: thus are the greatartists related. The history of Florentine art is practically thehistory of a family; one artist leads to the other--the genealogyof genius. The story goes that it was the excellence of the angelcontributed by Leonardo to his master's picture of the Baptism ofChrist (at the Accademia) which decided Verrocchio to paint no more, just as Ghiberti's superiority in the relief of Abraham and Isaacdrove Brunelleschi from sculpture. If this be so, it accounts for theextraordinarily small number of pictures by him. Like many artistsof his day Verrocchio was also a goldsmith, but he was versatileabove most, even when versatility was a habit, and excelled also asa musician. Both Piero de' Medici and Lorenzo employed him to designtheir tournament costumes; and it was for Lorenzo that he made thischarming David and the boy and the dolphin. His greatest work of allis the bronze equestrian statue of Bartolommeo Colleoni in Venice, thefinest thing of its kind in the world, and so glorious and excitingindeed that every city should have a cast of it in a conspicuousposition just for the good of the people. It was while at work uponthis that Verrocchio died, at the age of fifty-three. His body wasbrought from Venice by his pupil Lorenzo di Credi, who adored him, and was buried in S. Ambrogio in Florence. Lorenzo di Credi painted hisportrait, which is now in the Uffizi--a plump, undistinguished-lookinglittle man. In the David room are also the extremely interesting rival bronzereliefs of Abraham sacrificing Isaac, which were made by Ghiberti andBrunelleschi as trials of skill to see which would win the commissionto design the new gates of the Baptistery, as I have told earlier inthis book. Six competitors entered for the contest; but Ghiberti's andBrunelleschi's efforts were alone considered seriously. A comparisonof these two reliefs proves that Ghiberti, at any rate, had a finersense of grouping. He filled the space at his disposal more easilyand his hand was more fluent; but there is a very engaging vivacityin the other work, the realistic details of which are so arrestingas to make one regret that Brunelleschi had for sculpture so littletime. In S. Maria Novella is that crucifix in wood which he carved forhis friend Donatello, but his only other sculptured work in Florence isthe door of his beautiful Pazzi chapel in the cloisters of S. Croce. OfGhiberti's Baptistery gates I have said more elsewhere. Enough hereto add that the episode of Abraham and Isaac does not occur in them. This little room also has a Cassa Reliquiaria by Ghiberti, below a finerelief by Bertoldo, Michelangelo's master in sculpture, representinga battle between the Romans and the Barbarians; cases of exquisitebronzes; the head, in bronze (No. 25), of an old placid, shrewd woman, executed from a death-mask, which the photographers call Contessinade' Bardi, wife of Cosimo de' Medici, by Donatello, but which cannotbe so, since the sculptor died first; heads of Apollo and two babies, over the Ghiberti and Brunelleschi competition reliefs; a crucifixionby Bertoldo; a row of babies representing the triumph of Bacchus; andbelow these a case of medals and plaquettes, every one a masterpiece. The next room, Sala VII, is apportioned chiefly between Celliniand Gian or Giovanni da Bologna, the two sculptors who dominate theLoggia de' Lanzi. Here we may see models for Cellini's Perseus inbronze and wax and also for the relief of the rescue of Andromeda, under the statue; his Cosimo I, with the wart (omitted by Bandinelliin the head downstairs, which pairs with Michelangelo's Brutus);and various smaller works. But personally I find that Cellini willnot do in such near proximity to Donatello, Verrocchio, and theirgentle followers. He was, of course, far later. He was not born (in1500) until Donatello had been dead thirty-four years, Mino da Fiesolesixteen years, Desiderio da Settignano thirty-six years, and Verrocchiotwelve years. He thus did not begin to work until the finer impulsesof the Renaissance were exhausted. Giovanni da Bologna, although he, it is true, was even later (1524-1608), I find more sympathetic; whileLandor boldly proclaimed him superior to Michelangelo. His "Mercury, "in the middle of the room, which one sees counterfeited in all thestatuary shops of Florence, is truly very nearly light as air. If everbronze floated, this figure does. His cherubs and dolphins are veryskilful and merry; his turkey and eagle and other animals indicatethat he had humility. John of Bologna is best known at Florence byhis Rape of the Sabines and Hercules and Nessus in the Loggia de'Lanzi; but the Boboli gardens have a fine group of Oceanus and rivergods by him in the midst of a lake. Before leaving this room look atthe relief of Christ in glory (No. 35), to the left of the door, byJacopo Sansovino, a rival of Michelangelo, which is most admirable, and at the case of bronze animals by Pietro Tacca, John of Bologna'spupil, who made the famous boar (a copy of an ancient marble) atthe Mercato Nuovo and the reliefs for the pediment of the statue ofCosimo I (by his master) in the Piazza della Signoria. But I believethat the most beautiful thing in this room is the bronze figure forthe tomb of Mariano Sozzino by Lorenzo di Pietro. Before we look at the della Robbias, which are in the two large roomsupstairs, let us finish with the marble and terra-cotta statuary inthe two smaller rooms to the left as one passes through the firstdella Robbia room. In the first of them, corresponding to the roomwith Verrocchio's David downstairs, we find Verrocchio again, witha bust of Piero di Lorenzo de' Medici (whom Botticelli painted inthe Uffizi holding a medal in his hand) and a most exquisite Madonnaand Child in terra-cotta from S. Maria Nuova. (This is on a hinge, for better light, but the official skies will fall if you touchit. ) Here also is the bust of a young warrior by Antonio Pollaiuolo(1429-1498) who was Verrocchio's closest rival and one of Ghiberti'sassistants for the second Baptistery doors. His greatest work is atRome, but this bust is indescribably charming, and the softness of theboy's contours is almost of life. It is sometimes called Giuliano de'Medici. Other beautiful objects in the room are the terra-cotta Madonnaand Child by Andrea Sansovino (1460-1529), Pollaiuolo's pupil, whichis as radiant although not so domestically lovely as Verrocchio's;the bust by Benedetto da Maiano (1442-1497) of Pietro Mellini, thatshrewd and wrinkled patron of the Church who presented to S. Crocethe famous pulpit by this sculptor; an ancient lady, by the door, in coloured terra-cotta, who is thought to represent Monna Tessa, thenurse of Dante's Beatrice; and certain other works by that delightfuland prolific person Ignoto Fiorentino, who here, and in the next room, which we now enter, is at his best. This next priceless room is chiefly memorable for Verrocchio andMino da Fiesole. We come to Verrocchio at once, on the left, wherehis relief of the death of Francesca Pitti Tornabuoni (on a tinybed only half as long as herself) may be seen. This poor lady, whodied in childbirth, was the wife of Giovanni Tornabuoni, and he itwas who employed Ghirlandaio to make the frescoes in the choir ofS. Maria Novella. (I ought, however, to state that Miss Cruttwell, in her monograph on Verrocchio, questions both the subject and theartist. ) Close by we have two more works by Verrocchio--No. 180, amarble relief of the Madonna and Child, the Madonna's dress fastenedby the prettiest of brooches, and She herself possessing a dainty sadhead and the long fingers that Verrocchio so favoured, which we findagain in the famous "Gentildonna" (No. 181) next it--that Florentinelady with flowers in her bosom, whose contours are so exquisite andwho has such pretty shoulders. Near by is the little eager S. John the Baptist as a boy by AntonioRossellino (1427-1478), and on the next wall the same sculptor'scircular relief of the Madonna adoring, in a border of cherubs. In the middle is the masterpiece of Jacopo Sansovino (1486-1570): aBacchus, so strangely like a genuine antique, full of Greek lightnessand grace. And then we come back to the wall in which the door is, and find more works from the delicate hand of Mino da Fiesole, whomwe in London are fortunate in being able to study as near home as atthe Victoria and Albert Museum. Of Mino I have said more both at theBadia and at Fiesole. But here I might remark again that he was bornin 1431 and died in 1484, and was the favourite pupil of Desiderioda Settignano, who was in his turn the favourite pupil of Donatello. In the little church of S. Ambrogio we have seen a tablet to thememory of Mino, who lies there, not far from the grave of Verrocchio, whom he most nearly approached in feeling, although their ideal type ofwoman differed in everything save the slenderness of the fingers. TheBargello has both busts and reliefs by him, all distinguished andsensitive and marked by Mino's profound refinement. The Madonna andChild in No. 232 are peculiarly beautiful and notable both for highrelief and shallow relief, and the Child in No. 193 is even morecharming. For delicacy and vivacity in marble portraiture it wouldbe impossible to surpass the head of Rinaldo della Luna; and the twoMedicis are wonderfully real. Everything in Mino's work is thoughtfuland exquisite, while the unusual type of face which so attracted himgives him freshness too. This room and that next it illustrate the wealth of fine sculptorswhich Florence had in the fifteenth century, for the works by theunknown hands are in some cases hardly less beautiful and masterly thanthose by the known. Look, for example, at the fleur-de-lis over thedoor; at the Madonna and Child next it, on the right; at the girl'shead next to that; at the baby girl at the other end of the room;and at the older boy and his pendant. But one does not need to comehere to form an idea of the wealth of good sculpture. The streetsalone are full of it. Every palace has beautiful stone-work and anescutcheon which often only a master could execute--as Donatellodevised that for the Palazzo Pazzi in the Borgo degli Albizzi. On thegreat staircase of the Bargello, for example, are numbers of coatsof arms that could not be more beautifully designed and incised. In the room leading from that which is memorable for Pollaiuolo'syouth in armour is a collection of medals by all the best medallists, beginning, in the first case, with Pisanello. Here are his SigismondoMalatesta, the tyrant of Rimini, and Isotta his wife; here also isa portrait of Leon Battista Alberti, who designed and worked on thecathedral of Rimini as well as upon S. Maria Novella in Florence. Onthe other side of this case is the medal commemorating the Pazziconspiracy. In other cases are pretty Italian ladies, such as JuliaAstalla, Lucrezia Tornabuoni, with her hair in curls just as inGhirlandaio's frescoes, Costanza Rucellai, Leonora Altoviti, MariaPoliziano, and Maria de' Mucini. And so we come to the della Robbias, without whose joyous, radiantart Florence would be only half as beautiful as she is. Of theseexquisite artists Luca, the uncle, born in 1400, was by far thegreatest. Andrea, his nephew, born in 1435, came next, and thenGiovanni. Luca seems to have been a serious, quiet man who wouldprobably have made sculpture not much below his friend Donatello's hadnot he chanced on the discovery of a means of colouring and glazingterra-cotta. Examples of this craft are seen all over Florence bothwithin doors and out, as the pages of this book indicate, but at theBargello is the greatest number of small pieces gathered together. Ido not say there is anything here more notable than the Annunciationattributed to Andrea at the Spedale degli Innocenti, while of course, for most people, his putti on the façade of that building are thedella Robbia symbol; nor is there anything finer than Luca's workat Impruneta; but as a collection of sweetness and gentle domesticbeauty these Bargello reliefs are unequalled, both in character and involume. Here you see what one might call Roman Catholic art--that is, the art which at once gives pleasure to simple souls and symbolizesbenevolence and safety--carried out to its highest power. Tenderness, happiness, and purity are equally suggested by every relief here. HadLuca and Andrea been entrusted with the creation of the world itwould be a paradise. And, as it is, it seems to me impossible butthat they left the world sweeter than they found it. Such examplesof affection and solicitude as they were continually bringing to thepopular vision must have engendered kindness. I have noted as especially beautiful in the first room Nos. 4, 6, 12, 23, by Andrea; and 10 and 21, by Luca. These, by theway, are the Bargello ascriptions, but the experts do not alwaysagree. Herr Bode, for example, who has studied the della Robbias withpassionate thoroughness, gives the famous head of the boy, which isin reproduction one of the best-known works of plastic art, to Luca;but the Bargello director says Andrea. In Herr Bode's fascinatingmonograph, "Florentine Sculptors of the Renaissance, " he goes verycarefully into the differences between the uncle and the nephew, master and pupil. In all the groups, for example, he says that Lucaplaces the Child on the Madonna's left arm, Andrea on the right. Inthe second room I have marked particularly Nos. 21, 28, and 31, by Luca, 28 being a deeper relief than usual, and the Madonna notadoring but holding and delighting in one of the most adorable ofBabies. Observe in the reproduction of this relief in this volume--how the Mother's fingers sink into the child's flesh. Luca was thefirst sculptor to notice that. No. 31 is the lovely Madonna of theRose Bower. But nothing gives me more pleasure than the boy's head ofwhich I have just spoken, attributed to Andrea and also reproducedhere. The "Giovane Donna" which pairs with it has extraordinarycharm and delicacy too. I have marked also, by Andrea, Nos. 71 and76. Giovanni della Robbia's best is perhaps No. 15, in the other room. One curious thing that one notes about della Robbia pottery is itsinability to travel. It was made for the church and it should remainthere. Even in the Bargello, where there is an ancient environment, it loses half its charm; while in an English museum it becomes hardand cold. But in a church to which the poor carry their troubles, with a dim light and a little incense, it is perfect, far beyondpainting in its tenderness and symbolic value. I speak of courseof the Madonnas and altar-pieces. When the della Robbias worked forthe open air--as in the façade of the Children's Hospital, or at theCertosa, or in the Loggia di San Paolo, opposite S. Maria Novella, where one may see the beautiful meeting of S. Francis and S. Dominic, by Andrea--they seem, in Italy, to have fitness enough; but it wouldnot do to transplant any of these reliefs to an English façade. Therewas once, I might add, in Florence a Via della Robbia, but it is nowthe Via Nazionale. I suppose this injustice to the great potters cameabout in the eighteen-sixties, when popular political enthusiasm ledto every kind of similar re-naming. In the room leading out of the second della Robbia room is a collectionof vestments and brocades bequeathed by Baron Giulio Franchetti, whereyou may see, dating from as far back as the sixth century, designsthat for beauty and splendour and durability put to shame most of thestuffs now woven; but the top floor of the Museo Archeologico in theVia della Colonna is the chief home in Florence of such treasures. There are other beautiful things in the Bargello of which I have saidnothing--a gallery of mediaeval bells most exquisitely designed, fromfamous steeples; cases of carved ivory; and many of such treasures asone sees at the Cluny in Paris. But it is for its courtyard and for theRenaissance sculpture that one goes to the Bargello, and returns againand again to the Bargello, and it is for these that one remembers it. On returning to London the first duty of every one who has drunkdeep of delight in the Bargello is to visit that too much neglectedtreasure-house of our own, the Victoria and Albert Museum at SouthKensington. There may be nothing at South Kensington as fine as theBargello's finest, but it is a priceless collection and is superiorto the Bargello in one respect at any rate, for it has a reliefattributed to Leonardo. Here also is an adorable Madonna and laughingChild, beyond anything in Florence for sheer gaiety if not mischief, which the South Kensington authorities call a Rossellino but HerrBode a Desiderio da Settignano. The room is rich too in Donatelloand in Verrocchio, and altogether it makes a perfect footnote to theBargello. It also has within call learned gentlemen who can giveintimate information about the exhibits, which the Bargello badlylacks. The Louvre and the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin--butparticularly the Kaiser Friedrich since Herr Bode, who has sucha passion for this period, became its director--have pricelesstreasures, and in Paris I have had the privilege of seeing the littlebut exquisite collection formed by M. Gustave Dreyfus, dominated bythat mirthful Italian child which the Bargello authorities consider tobe by Donatello, but Herr Bode gives to Desiderio. At the Louvre, ingalleries on the ground floor gained through the Egyptian sculpturesection and opened very capriciously, may be seen the finest ofthe prisoners from Michelangelo's tomb for Pope Julius; Donatello'syouthful Baptist; a Madonna and Children by Agostino di Duccio, whomwe saw at the Museum of the Cathedral; an early coloured terra-cottaby Luca della Robbia, and No. 316, a terra-cotta Madonna and Childwithout ascription, which looks very like Rossellino. In addition to originals there are at South Kensington casts of manyof the Bargello's most valuable possessions, such as Donatello'sand Verrocchio's Davids, Donatello's Baptist and many heads, Minoda Fiesole's best Madonna, Pollaiuolo's Young Warrior, and so forth;so that to loiter there is most attractively to recapture somethingof the Florentine feeling. CHAPTER XV S. Croce An historic piazza--Marble façades--Florence's WestminsterAbbey--Galileo's ancestor and Ruskin--Benedetto'spulpit--Michelangelo's tomb--A fond lady--Donatello'sAnnunciation--Giotto's frescoes--S. Francis--Donatello magnanimous--Thegifted Alberti--Desiderio's great tomb--The sacristy--The Medicichapel--The Pazzi chapel--Old Jacopo desecrated--A Restoration. The piazza S. Croce now belongs to children. The church is at oneend, bizarre buildings are on either side, the Dante statue is in themiddle, and harsh gravel covers the ground. Everywhere are children, all dirty, and all rather squalid and mostly bow-legged, showing thatthey were of the wrong age to take their first steps on Holy Saturdayat noon. The long brown building on the right, as we face S. Croce, is a seventeenth-century palazzo. For the rest, the architecture ischiefly notable for green shutters. The frigid and florid Dante memorial, which was unveiled in 1865 onthe six hundredth anniversary of the poet's birthday, looks gloomilyupon what once was a scene of splendour and animation, for in 1469Piero de' Medici devised here a tournament in honour of the betrothalof Lorenzo to Clarice Orsini. The Queen of the tournament was LucreziaDonati, and she awarded the first prize to Lorenzo. The tournament cost10, 000 gold florins and was very splendid, Verrocchio and other artistsbeing called in to design costumes, and it is thought that Pollaiuolo'sterra-cotta of the Young Warrior in the Bargello represents the comelyGiuliano de' Medici as he appeared in his armour in the lists. Thepiazza was the scene also of that famous tournament given by Lorenzode' Medici for Giuliano in 1474, of which the beautiful Simonettawas the Queen of Beauty, and to which, as I have said elsewhere, weowe Botticelli's two most famous pictures. Difficult to reconstructin the Piazza any of those glories to-day. The new façade of S. Croce, endowed not long since by an Englishman, has been much abused, but it is not so bad. As the front of sobeautiful and wonderful a church it may be inadequate, but as astructure of black and white marble it will do. To my mind nothingsatisfactory can now be done in this medium, which, unless it iscenturies old, is always harsh and cuts the sky like a knife, insteadof resting against it as architecture should. But when it is old, as at S. Miniato, it is right. S. Croce is the Westminster Abbey of Florence. Michelangelo lies here, Machiavelli lies here, Galileo lies here; and here Giotto painted, Donatello carved, and Brunelleschi planned. Although outside the churchis disappointing, within it is the most beautiful in Florence. Ithas the boldest arches, the best light at all seasons, the mostattractive floor--of gentle red--and an apse almost wholly made ofcoloured glass. Not a little of its charm comes from the delicatepassage-way that runs the whole course of the church high up on theyellow walls. It also has the finest circular window in Florence, over the main entrance, a "Deposition" by Ghiberti. The lightness was indeed once so intense that no fewer than twenty-twowindows had to be closed. The circular window over the altar upon whicha new roof seems to be intruding is in reality the interloper: the roofis the original one, and the window was cut later, in defiance of goodarchitecture, by Vasari, who, since he was a pupil of Michelangelo, should have known better. To him was entrusted the restoration ofthe church in the middle of the sixteenth century. The original architect of the modern S. Croce was the same Arnolfo diCambio, or Lapo, who began the Duomo. He had some right to be chosensince his father, Jacopo, or Lapo, a German, was the builder of themost famous of all the Franciscan churches--that at Assisi, which wasbegun while S. Francis was still living. And Giotto, who painted inthat church his most famous frescoes, depicting scenes in the lifeof S. Francis, succeeded Arnolfo here, as at the Duomo, with equalfitness. Arnolfo began S. Croce in 1294, the year that the building ofthe Duomo was decided upon, as a reply to the new Dominican Church ofS. Maria Novella, and to his German origin is probably due the Northernimpression which the interiors both of S. Croce and the Duomo convey. The first thing to examine in S. Croce is the floor-tomb, close to thecentre door, upon which Ruskin wrote one of his most characteristicpassages. The tomb is of an ancestor of Galileo (who lies closeby, but beneath a florid monument), and it represents a mediaevalscholarly figure with folded hands. Ruskin writes: "That worn face isstill a perfect portrait of the old man, though like one struck outat a venture, with a few rough touches of a master's chisel. And thatfalling drapery of his cap is, in its few lines, faultless, and subtlebeyond description. And now, here is a simple but most useful test ofyour capacity for understanding Florentine sculpture or painting. Ifyou can see that the lines of that cap are both right, and lovely; thatthe choice of the folds is exquisite in its ornamental relations ofline; and that the softness and ease of them is complete, --though onlysketched with a few dark touches, --then you can understand Giotto'sdrawing, and Botticelli's; Donatello's carving and Luca's. But ifyou see nothing in this sculpture, you will see nothing in theirs, of theirs. Where they choose to imitate flesh, or silk, or to play anyvulgar modern trick with marble--(and they often do)--whatever, in aword, is French, or American, or Cockney, in their work, you can see;but what is Florentine, and for ever great--unless you can see alsothe beauty of this old man in his citizen's cap, --you will see never. " The passage is in "Mornings in Florence, " which begins with S. Croceand should be read by every one visiting the city. And here let meadvise another companion for this church: a little dark enthusiast, ina black skull cap, named Alfred Branconi, who is usually to be foundjust inside the doors, but may be secured as a guide by a postcardto the church. Signor Branconi knows S. Croce and he loves it, andhe has the further qualifications of knowing all Florence too andspeaking excellent English, which he taught himself. The S. Croce pulpit, which is by Benedetto da Maiano, is a satisfyingthing, accomplished both in proportions and workmanship, with panelsillustrating scenes in the life of S. Francis. These are all mostgently and persuasively done, influenced, of course, by the Baptisterydoors, but individual too, and full of a kindred sweetness andliveliness. The scenes are the "Confirmation of the Franciscan Order"(the best, I think); the "Burning of the Books"; the "Stigmata, "which we shall see again in the church, in fresco, for here we areall dedicated to the saint of Assisi, not yet having come upon thestern S. Dominic, the ruler at S. Marco and S. Maria Novella; the"Death of S. Francis, " very real and touching, which we shall alsosee again; and the execution of certain Franciscans. Benedetto, who was also an architect and made the plan of the Strozzi palace, was so unwilling that anything should mar the scheme of his pulpit, that after strengthening this pillar with the greatest care andthoroughness, he hollowed it and placed the stairs inside. The first tomb on the right, close to this pulpit, is Michelangelo's, a mass of allegory, designed by his friend Vasari, the author of the"Lives of the Artists, " the reading of which is perhaps the bestpreparation for the understanding of Florence. "If life pleases us, "Michelangelo once said, "we ought not to be grieved by death, whichcomes from the same Giver. " Michelangelo had intended the Pietà, nowin the Duomo, to stand above his grave; but Vasari, who had a littleof the Pepys in his nature, thought to do him greater honour by thisornateness. The artist was laid to his rest in 1564, but not before hisbody was exhumed, by his nephew, at Rome, where the great man had died, and a series of elaborate ceremonies had been performed, which Vasari, who is here trustworthy enough, describes minutely. All the artistsin Florence vied in celebrating the dead master in memorial paintingsfor his catafalque and its surroundings, which have now perished;but probably the loss is not great, except as an example of homage, for that was a bad period. How bad it was may be a little gauged byVasari's tributory tomb and his window over the high altar. Opposite Michelangelo's tomb, on the pillar, is the pretty but ratherVictorian "Madonna del Latte, " surrounded by angels, by BernardoRossellino (1409-1464), brother of the author of the great tomb atS. Miniato. This pretty relief was commissioned as a family memorialby that Francesco Nori, the close friend of Lorenzo de' Medici, whowas killed in the Duomo during the Pazzi conspiracy in his effort tosave Lorenzo from the assassins. The tomb of Alfieri, the dramatist, to which we now come, waserected at the cost of his mistress, the Countess of Albany, who herself sat to Canova for the figure of bereaved Italy. Thiscurious and unfortunate woman became, at the age of nineteen, thewife of the Young Pretender, twenty-seven years after the '45, andled a miserable existence with him (due chiefly to his depravity, but a little, she always held, to the circumstance that they choseGood Friday for their wedding day) until Alfieri fell in love withher and offered his protection. Together she and the poet remained, apparently contented with each other and received by society, evenby the English Royal family, until Alfieri died, in 1803, when afterexclaiming that she had lost all--"consolations, support, society, all, all!"--and establishing this handsome memorial, she selected theFrench artist Fabre to fill the aching void in her fifty-years-oldheart; and Fabre not only filled it until her death in 1824, butbecame the heir of all that had been bequeathed to her by both theStuart and Alfieri. Such was the Countess of Albany, to whom humanaffection was so necessary. She herself is buried close by, in thechapel of the Castellani. Mrs. Piozzi, in her "Glimpses of Italian Society, " mentions seeingin Florence in 1785 the unhappy Pretender. Though old and sickly, he went much into society, sported the English arms and livery, and wore the garter. Other tombs in the right aisle are those of Machiavelli, thestatesman and author of "The Prince, " and Rossini, the composer of"William Tell, " who died in Paris in 1868, but was brought here forburial. These tombs are modern and of no artistic value, but thereis near them a fine fifteenth-century example in the monument byBernardo Rossellino to another statesman and author, Leonardo Bruni, known as Aretino, who wrote the lives of Dante and Petrarch and aLatin history of Florence, a copy of which was placed on his heart athis funeral. This tomb is considered to be Rossellino's masterpiece;but there is one opposite by another hand which dwarfs it. There is also a work of sculpture near it, in the same wall, whichdraws away the eyes--Donatello's "Annunciation". The experts now thinkthis to belong to the sculptor's middle period, but Vasari thought itearlier, and makes it the work which had most influence in establishinghis reputation; while according to the archives it was placed in thechurch before Donatello was living. Vasari ought to be better informedupon this point than usual, since it was he who was employed in thesixteenth century to renovate S. Croce, at which time the chapel forwhose altar the relief was made--that of the Cavalcanti family--wasremoved. The relief now stands unrelated to anything. Every detail ofit should be examined; but Alfred Branconi will see to that. The stoneis the grey pietra serena of Fiesole, and Donatello has plentifully, but not too plentifully, lightened it with gold, which is exactly whatall artists who used this medium for sculpture should have done. By apleasant tactful touch the designer of the modern Donatello monumentin S. Lorenzo has followed the master's lead. Almost everything of Donatello's that one sees is in turn the best; butstanding before this lovely work one is more than commonly consciousof being in the presence of a wonderful creator. The Virgin is whollyunlike any other woman, and She is surprising and modern even forDonatello with his vast range. The charming terra-cotta boys aboveare almost without doubt from the same hand, but they cannot havebeen made for this monument. To the della Robbias we come in the Castellani chapel in the righttransept, which has two full-length statues by either Luca orAndrea, in the gentle glazed medium, of S. Francis and S. Bernard, quite different from anything we have seen or shall see, becauseisolated. The other full-size figures by these masters--such asthose at Impruneta--are placed against the wall. The S. Bernard, on the left as one enters the chapel, is far the finer. It surelymust be one of the most beautiful male draped figures in the world. The next chapel, at the end of the transept, was once enriched byGiotto frescoes, but they no longer exist. There are, however, aninteresting but restored series of scenes in the life of the Virginby Taddeo Gaddi, Giotto's godson; a Madonna ascending to heaven, by Mainardi, who was Ghirlandaio's pupil, and so satisfactory a onethat he was rewarded by the hand of his master's sister; and a prettypiece of Gothic sculpture with the Christ Child upon it. Hereabouts, I may remark, we have continually to be walking over floor-tombs, now ruined beyond hope, their ruin being perhaps the cause of aprotecting rail being placed round the others; although a floor-tombshould have, I think, a little wearing from the feet of worshippers, just to soften the lines. Those at the Certosa are, for example, far too sharp and clean. Let us complete the round of the church before we examine the sacristy, and go now to the two chapels, where Giotto may be found at his best, although restored too, on this side of the high altar. The Peruzzichapel has scenes from the lives of the two S. Johns, the Baptist, and the Evangelist: all rather too thoroughly re-painted, althoughfollowing Giotto's groundwork closely enough to retain much oftheir interest and value. And here once again one should consult the"Mornings in Florence, " where the wilful discerning enthusiast is, like his revered subject, also at his best. Giotto's thoughtfulnesscould not be better illustrated than in S. Croce. One sees him, asever, thinking of everything: not a very remarkable attribute of thefresco painter since then, but very remarkable then, when any kind offacile saintliness sufficed. Signor Bianchi, who found these paintingsunder the whitewash in 1853, and restored them, overdid his part, there is no doubt; but as I have said, their interest is unharmed, and it is that which one so delights in. Look, for instance, at theattitude of Drusiana, suddenly twitched by S. John back again intothis vale of tears, while her bier is on its way to the cemeteryoutside the pretty city. "Am I really to live again?" she so plainlysays to the inexorable miracle-worker. The dancing of Herodias'daughter, which offered Giotto less scope, is original too--originalnot because it came so early, but because Giotto's mind was originaland innovating and creative. The musician is charming. The last sceneof all is a delightful blend of religious fervour and reality: themiraculous ascent from the tomb, through an elegant Florentine loggia, to everlasting glory, in a blaze of gold, and Christ and an apostleleaning out of heaven with outstretched hands to pull the saint in, as into a boat. Such a Christ as that could not but be believed in. In the next chapel, the Bardi, we find Giotto at work on a life ofS. Francis, and here again Ruskin is essential. It was a task which, since this church was the great effort of the Florentine Franciscans, would put an artist upon his mettle, and Giotto set the chosenincidents before the observers with the discretion and skill of thegreat biographer that he was, and not only that, but the great Assisidecorator that he was. No choice could have been better at any timein the history of art. Giotto chose the following scenes, one or twoof which coincide with those on Benedetto da Maiano's pulpit, whichcame of course many years later: the "Confirmation of the Rules of theFranciscans, " "S. Francis before the Sultan and the Magi, " "S. FrancisSick and Appearing to the Bishop of Assisi, " "S. Francis Fleeing fromHis Father's House and His Reception by the Bishop of Assisi, " and the"Death of S. Francis". Giotto's Assisi frescoes, which preceded these, anticipate them; but in some cases these are considered to be better, although in others not so good. It is generally agreed that the deathscene is the best. Note the characteristic touch by which Giotto makesone of the monks at the head of the bed look up at the precise momentwhen the saint dies, seeing him being received into heaven. Accordingto Vasari, one of the two monks (on the extreme left, as I suppose)is Giotto's portrait of the architect of the church, Amolfo. The altarpicture, consisting of many more scenes in the life of S. Francis, is often attributed to Cimabue, Giotto's master, but probably is byanother hand. In one of these scenes the saint is found preachingto what must be the most attentive birds on record. The figures onthe ceiling represent Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience, which allFranciscans are pledged to observe. The glass is coeval with thebuilding, which has been described as the most perfect Gothic chapelin existence. The founder of this chapel was Ridolfo de' Bardi, whose family earlyin the fourteenth century bade fair to become as powerful as theMedici, and by the same means, their business being banking andmoney-lending, in association with the founders of the adjoiningchapel, the Peruzzi. Ridolfo's father died in 1310, and his son, who had become a Franciscan, in 1327; and the chapel was built, and Giotto probably painted the frescoes, soon after the father'sdeath. Both the Bardi and Peruzzi were brought low by our King EdwardIII, who borrowed from them money with which to fight the French, at Crecy and Poitiers, and omitted to repay it. The chapels in the left transept are less interesting, except perhapsto students of painting in its early days. In the chapel at the endwe find Donatello's wooden crucifix which led to that friendly rivalryon the part of Brunelleschi, the story of which is one of the best inall Vasari. Donatello, having finished this wooden crucifix, and beingunusually satisfied with it, asked Brunelleschi's opinion, confidentlyexpecting praise. But Brunelleschi, who was sufficiently close a friendto say what he thought, replied that the type was too rough and common:it was not Christ but a peasant. Christ, of course, was a peasant;but by peasant Brunelleschi meant a stupid, dull man. Donatello, chagrined, had recourse to what has always been a popular retort tocritics, and challenged him to make a better. Brunelleschi took it veryquietly: he said nothing in reply, but secretly for many months, inthe intervals of his architecture, worked at his own version, and thenone day, when it was finished, invited Donatello to dinner, stoppingat the Mercato Vecchio to get some eggs and other things. These hegave Donatello to carry, and sent him on before him to the studio, where the crucifix was standing unveiled. When Brunelleschi arrived hefound the eggs scattered and broken on the floor and Donatello beforehis carving in an ecstasy of admiration. "But what are we going tohave for dinner?" the host inquired. "Dinner!" said Donatello; "I'vehad all the dinner I require. To thee it is given to carve Christs:to me only peasants. " No one should forget this pretty story, eitherhere or at S. Maria Novella, where Brunelleschi's crucifix now is. The flexible Siena iron grille of this end chapel dates from 1335. Noteits ivy border. On entering the left aisle we find the tombs of Cherubini, thecomposer, Raphael Morghen, the engraver, and that curious example ofthe Florentine universalist, whose figure we saw under the Uffizi, Leon Battista Alberti (1405-1472), architect, painter, author, mathematician, scholar, conversationalist, aristocrat, and friend ofprinces. His chief work in Florence is the Rucellai palace and thefaçade of S. Maria Novella, but he was greater as an influence thancreator, and his manuals on architecture, painting, and the study ofperspective helped to bring the arts to perfection. It is at Riminithat he was perhaps most wonderful. Lorenzo de' Medici greatly valuedhis society, and he was a leader in the Platonic Academy. But the mosthuman achievement to his credit is his powerful plea for using thevernacular in literature, rather than concealing one's best thoughts, as was fashionable before his protest, in Latin. So much for Alberti'sintellectual side. Physically he was remarkable too, and one of hisaccomplishments was to jump over a man standing upright, while he wasalso able to throw a coin on to the highest tower, even, I suppose, the Campanile, and ride any horse, however wild. At the Bargello maybe seen Alberti's portrait, on a medal designed by Pisanello. The oldmedals are indeed the best authority for the lineaments of the greatmen of the Renaissance, better far than paint. At South Kensingtonthousands may be seen, either in the original or in reproduction. In the right aisle we saw Bernardo Rossellino's tomb of Leonardo Bruni;in the left is that of Bruni's successor as Secretary of State, CarloMarsuppini, by Desiderio da Settignano, which is high among the mostbeautiful monuments that exist. "Faine, faine!" says Alfred Branconi, with his black eyes dimmed; and this though he has seen it every dayfor years and explained its beauties in the same words. Everythingabout it is beautiful, as the photograph which I give in this volumewill help the reader to believe: proportions, figures, and tracery;but I still consider Mino's monument to Ugo in the Badia the finestFlorentine example of the gentler memorial style, as contrasted withthe severe Michelangelesque manner. Mino, it must be remembered, was Desiderio's pupil, as Desiderio was Donatello's. Note howDesiderio, by an inspiration, opened the leaf-work at each side ofthe sarcophagus and instantly the great solid mass of marble becamelight, almost buoyant. Never can a few strokes of the chisel have hadso transforming an effect. There is some doubt as to whether the boysare just where the sculptor set them, and the upper ones with theirgarlands are thought to be a later addition; but we are never likelyto know. The returned visitor from Florence will like to be remindedthat, as of so many others of the best Florentine sculptures, thereis a cast of this at South Kensington. The last tomb of the highest importance in the church is that ofGalileo, the astronomer, who died in 1642; but it is not interestingas a work of art. In the centre of the church is a floor-tomb byGhiberti, with a bronze figure of a famous Franciscan, FrancescoSansoni da Brescia. Next the sacristy. Italian priests apparently have no resentmentagainst inquisitive foreigners who are led into their dressing-roomswhile sumptuous and significant vestments are being donned; but I mustconfess to feeling it for them, and if my impressions of the S. Crocesacristy are meagre and confused it is because of a certain delicacythat I experienced in intruding upon their rites. For on both occasionswhen I visited the sacristy there were several priests either robingor disrobing. Apart from a natural disinclination to invade privacy, I am so poor a Roman Catholic as to be in some doubt as to whether onehas a right to be so near such a mystery at all. But I recollect thatin this sacristy are treasures of wood and iron--the most beautifulintarsia wainscotting I ever saw, by Giovanni di Michele, with a friezeof wolves and foliage, and fourteenth-century iron gates to the littlechapel, pure Gothic in design, with a little rose window at the top, delicate beyond words: all which things once again turn the thoughtsto this wonderful Italy of the fourteenth and fifteenth century, when not even the best was good enough for those who built churches, but something miraculous was demanded from every craftsman. At the end of the passage in which the sacristy is situated is theexquisite little Cappella Medici, which Michelozzo, the architect ofS. Marco and the Palazzo Medici, and for a while Donatello's partner, built for his friend Cosimo de' Medici, who though a Dominican in hiscell at S. Marco was a Franciscan here, but by being equally a patrondissociated himself from partisanship. Three treasures in particulardoes this little temple hold: Giotto's "Coronation of the Virgin"; thedella Robbia altar relief, and Mino da Fiesole's tabernacle. Giotto'spicture, which is signed, once stood as altar-piece in the Baroncellichapel of the church proper. In addition to the beautiful dellaRobbia altar-piece, so happy and holy--which Alfred Branconi boldlycalls Luca--there is over the door Christ between two angels, a lovely example of the same art. For a subtler, more modern andless religious mind, we have but to turn to the tabernacle by Mino, every inch of which is exquisite. On the same wall is a curious thing. In the eighteen-sixties dieda Signor Lombardi, who owned certain reliefs which he believed tobe Donatello's. When his monument was made these ancient works werebuilt into them and here and there gilded (for it is a wicked worldand there was no taste at that time). One's impulse is not to lookat this encroaching piece of novelty at all; but one should resistthat feeling, because, on examination, the Madonna and Children aboveSignor Lombardi's head become exceedingly interesting. Her hands arethe work of a great artist, and they are really holding the Child. Whythis should not be an early Donatello I do not see. The cloisters of S. Croce are entered from the piazza, just to theright of the church: the first, a little ornate, by Arnolfo, andthe second, until recently used as a barracks but now being restoredto a more pacific end, by Brunelleschi, and among the most perfectof his works. Brunelleschi is also the designer of the Pazzi chapelin the first cloisters. The severity of the façade is delightfullysoftened and enlivened by a frieze of mischievous cherubs' heads, thejoint work of Donatello and Desiderio. Donatello's are on the right, and one sees at once that his was the bolder, stronger hand. Lookparticularly at the laughing head fourth from the right. But that oneof Desiderio's over the middle columns has much charm and power. Thedoors, from Brunelleschi's own hand, in a doorway perfect in scale, are noble and worthy. The chapel itself I find too severe and a littlefretted by its della Robbias and the multiplicity of circles. It iscalled Brunelleschi's masterpiece, but I prefer both the Badia ofFiesole and the Old Sacristy at S. Lorenzo, and I remember with morepleasure the beautiful doorway leading from the Arnolfo cloistersto the Brunelleschi cloisters, which probably is his too. Thedella Robbia reliefs, once one can forgive them for being here, areworth study. Nothing could be more charming (or less conducive to amethodical literary morning) than the angel who holds S. Matthew'sink-pot. But I think my favourite of all is the pensive apostle wholeans his cheek on his hand and his elbow on his book. This figurealone proves what a sculptor Luca was, apart altogether from thecharm of his mind and the fascination of his chosen medium. This chapel was once the scene of a gruesome ceremony. Old JacopoPazzi, the head of the family at the time of the Pazzi conspiracyagainst the Medici, after being hanged from a window of the PalazzoVecchio, was buried here. Some short while afterwards Florence wasinundated by rain to such an extent that the vengeance of God wasinferred, and, casting about for a reason, the Florentines decidedthat it was because Jacopo had been allowed to rest in sacred soil. Amob therefore rushed to S. Croce, broke open his tomb and draggedhis body through the streets, stopping on their way at the Pazzipalace to knock on the door with his skull. He was then thrown intothe swollen Arno and borne away by the tide. In the old refectory of the convent are now a number of picturesand fragments of sculpture. The "Last Supper, " by Taddeo Gaddi, onthe wall, is notable for depicting Judas, who had no shrift at thehands of the painters, without a halo. Castagno and Ghirlandaio, as we shall see, under similar circumstances, placed him on thewrong side of the table. In either case, but particularly perhaps inTaddeo's picture, the answer to Christ's question, which Leonardo atMilan makes so dramatic, is a foregone conclusion. The "Crucifixion"on the end wall, at the left, is interesting as having been paintedfor the Porta S. Gallo (in the Piazza Cavour) and removed here. Allthe gates of Florence had religious frescoes in them, some of whichstill remain. The great bronze bishop is said to be by Donatello andto have been meant for Or San Michele; but one does not much mind. One finds occasion to say so many hard things of the Florentinedisregard of ancient art that it is peculiarly a pleasure to seethe progress that is being made in restoring Brunelleschi's perfectcloisters at S. Croce to their original form. When they were turnedinto barracks the Loggia was walled in all round and made into a seriesof rooms. These walls are now gradually coming away, the lovely pillarsbeing again isolated, the chimneys removed, and everything lightlywashed. Grass has also been sown in the great central square. Thecrumbling of the decorative medals in the spandrels of the cloisterscannot of course be restored; but one does not complain of suchnatural decay as that. CHAPTER XVI The Accademia Michelangelo--The David--The tomb of Julius--A contrast--FraAngelico--The beatific painter--Cimabue and Giotto--Masaccio--Gentileda Fabriano--Domenico Ghirlandaio--Fra Angelico again--FraBartolommeo--Perugino--Botticelli--The "Primavera"--Leonardo da Vinciand Verrocchio--Botticelli's sacred pictures--Botticini--Tapestriesof Eden. The Accademia delle Belle Arti is in the Via Ricasoli, that streetwhich seen from the top of the Campanile is the straightest thing inFlorence, running like a ruled line from the Duomo to the valley ofthe Mugnone. Upstairs are modern painters: but upstairs I have neverbeen. It is the ground-floor rooms that are so memorable, containingas they do a small but very choice collection of pictures illustratingthe growth of Italian art, with particular emphasis on Florentineart; the best assemblage of the work of Fra Angelico that exists;and a large gallery given up to Michelangelo's sculpture: originalsand casts. The principal magnets that draw people here, no doubt, are the Fra Angelicos and Botticelli's "Primavera"; but in five atleast of the rooms there is not an uninteresting picture, while thecollection is so small that one can study it without fatigue--nolittle matter after the crowded Uffizi and Pitti. It is a simple matter to choose in such a book as this the bestplace in which to tell something of the life-story of, say, Giottoand Brunelleschi and the della Robbias; for at a certain point theirgenius is found concentrated--Donatello's and the della Robbias'in the Bargello and those others at the Duomo and Campanile. Butwith Michelangelo it is different, he is so distributed over thecity--his gigantic David here, the Medici tombs at S. Lorenzo, hisfortifications at S. Miniato, his tomb at S. Croce, while there remainshis house as a natural focus of all his activities. I have, however, chosen the Medici chapel as the spot best suited for his biography, and therefore will here dwell only on the originals that are preservedabout the David. The David himself, superb and confident, is thefirst thing you see in entering the doors of the gallery. He standsat the end, white and glorious, with his eyes steadfastly measuringhis antagonist and calculating upon what will be his next move if thesling misdirects the stone. Of the objection to the statue as beingnot representative of the Biblical figure I have said something in thechapter on the Bargello, where several Davids come under review. Yet, after all that can be said against its dramatic fitness, the statueremains an impressive and majestic yet strangely human thing. Thereit is--a sign of what a little Italian sculptor with a broken nosecould fashion with his mallet and chisel from a mass of marble fourhundred and more years ago. Its history is curious. In 1501, when Michelangelo was twenty-sixand had just returned to Florence from Rome with a great reputationas a sculptor, the joint authorities of the cathedral and the Artedella Lana offered him a huge block of marble that had been in theirpossession for thirty-five years, having been worked upon clumsily bya sculptor named Baccellino and then set aside. Michelangelo was toldthat if he accepted it he must carve from it a David and have it donein two years. He began in September, 1501, and finished in January, 1504, and a committee was appointed to decide upon its position, among them being Leonardo da Vinci, Perugino, Lorenzo di Credi, Filippino Lippi, Botticelli, and Andrea della Robbia, There werethree suggested sites: the Loggia de' Lanzi; the courtyard of thePalazzo Vecchio, where Verrocchio's little boudoir David then stood(now in the Bargello) and where his Cupid and dolphin now are; andthe place where it now stands, then occupied by Donatello's Judith andHolofernes. This last was finally selected, not by the committee but bythe determination of Michelangelo himself, and Judith and Holoferneswere moved to the Loggia de' Lanzi to their present position. TheDavid was set up in May, 1504, and remained there for three hundredand sixty-nine years, suffering no harm from the weather but havingan arm broken in the Medici riots in 1527. In 1878, however, it wasdecided that further exposure might be injurious, and so the statuewas moved here to its frigid niche and a replica in marble afterwardsset up in its place. Since this glorious figure is to be seen thricein Florence, he may be said to have become the second symbol of thecity, next the fleur-de-lis. The Tribuna del David, as the Michelangelo salon is called, hasamong other originals several figures intended for that tomb of PopeJulius II (whose portrait by Raphael we have seen at the Uffizi)which was to be the eighth wonder of the world, and by which the lastyears of the sculptor's life were rendered so unhappy. The storyis a miserable one. Of the various component parts of the tomb, finished or unfinished, the best known is the Moses at S. Pietroin Vincoli at Rome, reproduced in plaster here, in the Accademia, beneath the bronze head of its author. Various other parts are in Rometoo; others here; one or two may be at the Bargello (although someauthorities give these supposed Michelangelos to Vincenzo Danti);others are in the grotto of the Boboli Gardens; and the Louvre haswhat is in some respects the finest of the "Prisoners". The first statue on the right of the entrance of the Tribuna del Davidis a group called "Genio Vittorioso". Here in the old man we see rockactually turned to life; in the various "Prisoners" near we see lifeemerging from rock; in the David we forget the rock altogether. Onewonders how Michelangelo went to work. Did the shape of the blockof marble influence him, or did he with his mind's eye, the Röntgenrays of genius, see the figure within it, embedded in the midst, andhew and chip until it disclosed? On the back of the fourth statue onthe left a monkish face has been incised: probably some visitor to thestudio. After looking at these originals and casts, and rememberingthose other Michelangelo sculptures elsewhere in Florence--the tombsof the Medici, the Brutus and the smaller David--turn to the bronzehead over the cast of Moses and reflect upon the author of it all:the profoundly sorrowful eyes behind which so much power and ambitionand disappointment dwelt. It is peculiarly interesting to walk out of the Michelangelo galleryinto the little room containing the Fra Angelicos: to pass from a greatmelancholy saturnine sculptor, the victim of the caprice of princestemporal and spiritual, his eyes troubled with world knowledge andworld weariness, to the child-like celebrant of the joy of simple faithwho painted these gay and happy pictures. Fra Angelico--the sweetestof all the Florentine painters--was a monk of Fiesole, whose real namewas Guido Petri da Mugello, but becoming a Dominican he called himselfGiovanni, and now through the sanctity and happiness of his brush isfor all time Beato Angelico. He was born in 1390, nearly sixty yearsafter Giotto's death, when Chaucer was fifty, and Richard II on theEnglish throne. His early years were spent in exile from Fiesole, the brothers having come into difficulties with the Archbishop, but by 1418 he was again at Fiesole, and when in 1436 Cosimo de'Medici, returned from exile at Venice, set his friend Michelozzoupon building the convent of S. Marco, Fra Angelico was fetched fromFiesole to decorate the walls. There, and here, in the Accademia, arehis chief works assembled; but he worked also at Fiesole, at Cortona, and at Rome, where he painted frescoes in the chapel of Nicholas V inthe Vatican and where he died, aged sixty-eight, and was buried. Itwas while at Rome that the Pope offered him the priorship of S. Marco, which he declined as being unworthy, but recommended Antonio, "the goodarchbishop". --That practically is his whole life. As to his character, let Vasari tell us. "He would often say that whosoever practised artneeded a quiet life and freedom from care, and he who occupies himselfwith the things of Christ ought always to be with Christ. . . . Somesay that Fra Giovanni never took up his brush without first making aprayer. . . . He never made a crucifix when the tears did not coursedown his cheeks. " The one curious thing--to me--about Fra Angelicois that he has not been canonized. If ever a son of the Church toiledfor her honour and for the happiness of mankind it was he. There are examples of Fra Angelico's work elsewhere in Florence;the large picture in Room I of this gallery; the large altar-pieceat the Uffizi, with certain others; the series of mural paintingsin the cells of S. Marco; and his pictures will be found not onlyelsewhere in Florence and Italy but in the chief galleries of theworld; for he was very assiduous. We have an excellent example atthe National Gallery, No. 663; but this little room gives us theartist and rhapsodist most completely. In looking at his pictures, three things in particular strike the mind: the skill with which hecomposed them; his mastery of light; and--and here he is unique--thepleasure he must have had in painting them. All seem to have been play;he enjoyed the toil exactly as a child enjoys the labour of buildinga house with toy bricks. Nor, one feels, could he be depressed. Evenin his Crucifixions there is a certain underlying happiness, dueto his knowledge that the Crucified was to rise again and ascend toHeaven and enjoy eternal felicity. Knowing this (as he did know it)how could he be wholly cast down? You see it again in the Flagellationof Christ, in the series of six scenes (No. 237). The scourging isalmost a festival. But best of all I like the Flight into Egypt, inNo. 235. Everything here is joyous and (in spite of the terrible causeof the journey) bathed in the sunny light of the age of innocence:the landscape; Joseph, younger than usual, brave and resolute andundismayed by the curious turn in his fortunes; and Mary with thechild in her arms, happy and pretty, seated securely on an amiabledonkey that has neither bit nor bridle. It is when one looks atFra Angelico that one understands how wise were the Old Masters toseek their inspiration in the life of Christ. One cannot imagine FraAngelico's existence in a pagan country. Look, in No. 236, at the sixradiant and rapturous angels clustering above the manger. Was thereever anything prettier? But I am not sure that I do not most covetNo. 250, Christ crucified and two saints, and No. 251, the Coronationof the Virgin, for their beauty of light. In the photographs No. 246--a Deposition--is unusually striking, but in the original, although beautiful, it is far less radiant thanusual with this painter. It has, however, such feeling as to make itespecially memorable among the many treatments of this subject. Whatis generally considered the most important work in this room is theLast Judgment, which is certainly extraordinarily interesting, and inthe hierarchy of heaven and the company of the blest Fra Angelico isin a very acceptable mood. The benignant Christ Who divides the sheepand the goats; the healthy ripe-lipped Saints and Fathers who assistat the tribunal and have never a line of age or experience on theirblooming cheeks; the monks and nuns, just risen from their graves, whoembrace each other in the meads of paradise with such fervour--thesehave much of the charm of little flowers. But in delineating the damnedthe painter is in strange country. It was a subject of which he knewnothing, and the introduction among them of monks of the rival orderof S. Francis is mere party politics and a blot. There are two other rooms here, but Fra Angelico spoils us forthem. Four panels by another Frate, but less radiant, Lippo Lippi, areremarkable, particularly the figure of the Virgin in the Annunciation;and there is a curious series of scenes entitled "L'Albero dellaCroce, " by an Ignoto of the fourteenth century, with a Christ crucifiedin the midst and all Scripture in medallions around him, the tragedy ofAdam and Eve at the foot (mutilated by some chaste pedant) being veryquaint. And in Angelico's rooms there is a little, modest Annunciationby one of his school--No. 256--which shows what a good influence hewas, and to which the eye returns and returns. Here also, on easels, are two portraits of Vallombrosan monks by Fra Bartolommeo, serene, and very sympathetically painted, which cause one to regret thedeterioration in Italian ecclesiastic physiognomy; and Andrea delSarto's two pretty angels, which one so often finds in reproduction, are here too. Let us now enter the first room of the collection proper and begin atthe very beginning of Tuscan art, for this collection is historicaland not fortuitous like that of the Pitti. The student may here tracethe progress of Tuscan painting from the level to the highest peaksand downwards again. The Accademia was established with this purposeby that enlightened prince, Peter Leopold, Grand Duke of Tuscany, in 1784. Other pictures not wholly within his scheme have been addedsince, together with the Michelangelo statues and casts; but they donot impair the original idea. For the serious student the first roomis of far the most importance, for there he may begin with Cimabue(? 1240-? 1302), and Giotto (1267-? 1337), and pass steadily to LucaSignorelli (? 1450-1523). For the most part the pictures in this roomappeal to the inquirer rather than the sightseer; but there is notone that is without interest, while three works of extraordinary charmhave thoughtfully been enisled, on screens, for special attention--aFra Angelico, a Fabriano, and a Ghirlandaio. Before reaching these, let us look at the walls. The first large picture, on the left, the Cimabue, marks the transitionfrom Byzantine art to Italian art. Giovanni Cimabue, who was to bethe forerunner of the new art, was born about 1240. At that timethere was plenty of painting in Italy, but it was Greek, the work ofartists at Constantinople (Byzantium), the centre of Christianity inthe eastern half of the Roman Empire and the fount of ecclesiasticalenergy, and it was crude workmanship, existing purely as an accessoryof worship. Cimabue, of whom, I may say, almost nothing definiteis known, and upon whom the delightful but casual old Vasari is theearliest authority, as Dante was his first eulogist, carried on theByzantine tradition, but breathed a little life into it. In his picturehere we see him feeling his way from the unemotional painted symbolsof the Faith to humanity itself. One can understand this large panelbeing carried (as we know the similar one at S. Maria Novella was)in procession and worshipped, but it is nearer to the icon of theRussian peasant of today than to a Raphael. The Madonna is abovelife; the Child is a little man. This was painted, say, in 1280, as an altar-piece for the Badia of S. Trinità at Florence. Next came Giotto, Cimabue's pupil, born about 1267, whom we havemet already as an architect, philosopher, and innovator; and in thesecond picture in this room, from Giotto's brush, we see life reallyawakening. The Madonna is vivifying; the Child is nearer childhood; wecan believe that here are veins with blood in them. Moreover, whereasCimabue's angels brought masonry, these bring flowers. It is crude, no doubt, but it is enough; the new art, which was to counterfeitand even extend nature, has really begun; the mystery and glory ofpainting are assured and the door opened for Botticelli. But much had to happen first, particularly the mastery of the laws ofperspective, and it was not (as we have seen) until Ghiberti had gotto work on his first doors, and Brunelleschi was studying architectureand Uccello sitting up all night at his desk, that painting as weknow it--painting of men and women "in the round"--could be done, and it was left for a youth who was not born until Giotto had beendead sixty-four years to do this first as a master--one Tommasodi Ser Giovanni Guido da Castel San Giovanni, known as Masaccio, or Big Tom. The three great names then in the evolution of Italianpainting, a subject to which I return in chapter XXV, on the Carmine, are Cimabue, Giotto, Masaccio. We pass on at the Accademia from Cimabue's pupil Giotto, to Giotto'sfollowers, Taddeo Gaddi and Bernardo Daddi, and Daddi's followerSpinello Aretino, and the long dependent and interdependent line ofpainters. For the most part they painted altar-pieces, these earlycraftsmen, the Church being the principal patron of art. Theseworks are many of them faded and so elementary as to have but anantiquarian interest; but think of the excitement in those days whenthe picture was at last ready, and, gay in its gold, was erected in thechapel! Among the purely ecclesiastical works No. 137, an Annunciationby Giovanni del Biondo (second half of the fourteenth century), is light and cheerful, and No. 142, the Crowning of the Virgin, byRosello di Jacopo Franchi (1376-1456), has some delightful details andis everywhere joyous, with a charming green pattern in it. The weddingscenes in No. 147 give us Florentine life on the mundane side withsome valuable thoroughness, and the Pietro Lorenzetti above--scenesin the life of S. Umilita--is very quaint and cheery and was paintedas early as 1316. The little Virgin adoring, No. 160, in the corner, by the fertile Ignoto, is charmingly pretty. And now for the three screens, notable among the screens of thegalleries of Europe as holding three of the happiest picturesever painted. The first is the Adoration of the Magi, by Gentileda Fabriano, an artist of whom one sees too little. His fullname was Gentile di Niccolò di Giovanni Massi, and he was bornat Fabriano between 1360 and 1370, some twenty years before FraAngelico. According to Vasari he was Fra Angelico's master, butthat is now considered doubtful, and yet the three little scenesfrom the life of Christ in the predella of this picture are nearerFra Angelico in spirit and charm than any, not by a follower, that Ihave seen. Gentile did much work at Venice before he came to Florence, in 1422, and this picture, which is considered his masterpiece, waspainted in 1423 for S. Trinita. He died four years later. Gentilewas charming rather than great, and to this work might be appliedRuskin's sarcastic description of poor Ghirlandaio's frescoes, thatthey are mere goldsmith's work; and yet it is much more, for it hasgaiety and sweetness and the nice thoughtfulness that made the Child areal child, interested like a child in the bald head of the kneelingmage; while the predella is not to be excelled in its modest, tenderbeauty by any in Florence; and predellas, I may remark again, shouldnever be overlooked, strong as the tendency is to miss them. Manya painter has failed in the large space or made only a perfunctorysuccess, but in the small has achieved real feeling. Gentile's HolyFamily on its way to Egypt is never to be forgotten. Not so radiantas Fra Angelico's, in the room we have visited out of due course, but as charming in its own manner--both in personages and landscape;while the city to which Joseph leads the donkey (again without reins)is the most perfect thing out of fairyland. Ghirlandaio's picture, which is the neighbour of Gentile's, is asa whole nearer life and one of his most attractive works. It is, I think, excelled only by his very similar Adoration of the Magiat the Spedale degli Innocenti, which, however, it is difficult tosee; and it is far beyond the examples at the Uffizi, which are toohot. Of the life of this artist, who was Michelangelo's master, Ishall speak in the chapter on S. Maria Novella. This picture, whichrepresents the Adoration of the Shepherds, was painted in 1485, whenthe artist was thirty-six. It is essentially pleasant: a religiouspicture on the sunny side. The Child is the soul of babyish content, equally amused with its thumb and the homage it is receiving. Closeby is a goldfinch unafraid; in the distance is a citied valley, witha river winding in it; and down a neighbouring hill, on the top ofwhich the shepherds feed their flocks, comes the imposing processionof the Magi. Joseph is more than commonly perplexed, and the disparitybetween his own and his wife's age, which the old masters agreed tomake considerable, is more considerable than usual. Both Gentile and Ghirlandaio chose a happy subject and made it happier;Fra Angelico (for the third screen picture) chose a melancholysubject and made it happy, not because that was his intention, butbecause he could not help it. He had only one set of colours and oneset of countenances, and since the colours were of the gayest and thecountenances of the serenest, the result was bound to be peaceful andglad. This picture is a large "Deposizione della Croce, " an altar-piecefor S. Trinità. There is such joy in the painting and light in thesky that a child would clap his hands at it all, and not least atthe vermilion of the Redeemer's blood. Fra Angelico gave thought toevery touch: and his beatific holiness floods the work. Each of thesethree great pictures, I may add, has its original frame. The room which leads from this one is much less valuable; but FraBartolommeo's Vision of S. Bernard has lately been brought to an easelhere to give it character. I find this the Frate's most beautifulwork. It may have details that are a little crude, and the pointed noseof the Virgin is not perhaps in accordance with the best tradition, while she is too real for an apparition; but the figure of the kneelingsaint is masterly and the landscape lovely in subject and feeling. Heretoo is Fra Bartolommeo's portrait of Savonarola, in which the reformeris shown as personating S. Peter Martyr. The picture was not paintedfrom life, but from an earlier portrait. Fra Bartolommeo had somereason to know what Savonarola was like, for he was his personalfriend and a brother in the same convent of S. Marco, a few yardsfrom the Accademia, across the square. He was born in 1475 and wasapprenticed to the painter Cosimo Rosselli; but he learned more fromstudying Masaccio's frescoes at the Carmine and the work of Leonardo daVinci. It was in 1495 that he came under the influence of Savonarola, and he was the first artist to run home and burn his studies from thenude in response to the preacher's denunciations. Three years later, when Savonarola was an object of hatred and the convent of S. Marcowas besieged, the artist was with him, and he then made a vow that ifhe lived he would join the order; and this promise he kept, althoughnot until Savonarola had been executed. For a while, as a monk, helaid aside the brush, but in 1506 he resumed it and painted untilhis death, in 1517. He was buried at S. Marco. In his less regenerate days Fra Bartolommeo's greatest friend was thejovial Mariotto Albertinelli, whose rather theatrical Annunciationhangs between a number of the monk's other portraits, all veryinteresting. Of Albertinelli I have spoken earlier. Before leaving, look at the tiny Ignoto next the door--a Madonna and Child, the childeating a pomegranate. It is a little picture to steal. In the next room are a number of the later and showy painters, such asCarlo Dolci, Lorenzo Lippi, and Francesco Furini, all bold, dashing, self-satisfied hands, in whom (so near the real thing) one can takeno interest. Nothing to steal here. Returning through Sala Prima we come to the Sala del Perugino andare among the masters once more--riper and richer than most ofthose we have already seen, for Tuscan art here reaches its finestflower. Perugino is here and Botticelli, Fra Bartolommeo and Leonardo, Luca Signorelli, Fra Lippo Lippi and Filippino Lippi. And here is aMasaccio. The great Perugino Assumption has all his mellow sunset calm, and never was a landscape more tenderly sympathetic. The same painter'sDeposition hangs next, and the custodian brings a magnifying glassthat the tears on the Magdalen's cheek may be more closely observed;but the third, No. 53, Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, is finer, and here again the landscape and light are perfect. For the rest, there is a Royal Academy Andrea and a formal Ghirlandaio. And now we come to Botticelli, who although less richly representedin numbers than at the Uffizi, is for the majority of his admirersmore to be sought here, by reason of the "Primavera" allegory, which is the Accademia's most powerful magnet. The Botticellis aredivided between two rooms, the "Primavera" being in the first. Thefirst feeling one has is how much cooler it is here than among thePeruginos, and how much gayer; for not only is there the "Primavera, "but Fra Lippo Lippi is here too, with a company of angels helpingto crown the Virgin, and a very sweet, almost transparent, littleMadonna adoring--No. 79--which one cannot forget. The "Primavera" is not wearing too well: one sees that at once. Beingin tempera it cannot be cleaned, and a dulness is overlaying it; butnothing can deprive the figure of Spring of her joy and movement, a floating type of conquering beauty and youth. The most wonderfulthing about this wonderful picture is that it should have been paintedwhen it was: that, suddenly, out of a solid phalanx of Madonnas shouldhave stepped these radiant creatures of the joyous earth, earthy andjoyful. And not only that they should have so surprisingly and suddenlyemerged, but that after all these years this figure of Spring shouldstill be the finest of her kind. That is the miracle! Luca Signorelli'sflowers at the Uffizi remain the best, but Botticelli's are verythoughtful and before the grass turned black they must have been verylovely; the exquisite drawing of the irises in the right-hand cornercan still be traced, although the colour has gone. The effect now israther like a Chinese painting. For the history of the "Primavera"and its signification, one must turn back to Chapter X. I spoke just now of Luca's flowers. There are others in his picture inthis room--botanist's flowers as distinguished from painter's flowers:the wild strawberry beautifully straggling. This picture is one ofthe most remarkable in all Florence to me: a Crucifixion to whichthe perishing of the colour has given an effect of extreme delicacy, while the group round the cross on the distant mound has a quality forwhich one usually goes to Spanish art. The Magdalen is curiously sulkyand human. Into the skull at the foot of the cross creeps a lizard. This room has three Lippo Lippis, which is an interesting circumstancewhen we remember that that dissolute brother was the greatest influenceon Botticelli. The largest is the Coronation of the Virgin with itsmany lilies--a picture which one must delight in, so happy and crowdedis it, but which never seems to me quite what it should be. The mostfascinating part of it is the figures in the two little medallions:two perfect pieces of colour and design. The kneeling monk on theright is Lippo Lippi himself. Near it is the Madonna adoring, No. 79, of which I have spoken, with herself so luminous and the backgroundso dark; the other--No. 82--is less remarkable. No. 81, above it, is by Browning's Pacchiorotto (who worked in distemper); close byis the Masaccio, which has a deep, quiet beauty; and beneath it is arichly coloured predella by Andrea del Sarto, the work of a few hours, I should guess, and full of spirit and vigour. It consists of fourscriptural scenes which might be called the direct forerunners ofSir John Gilbert and the modern illustrators. Lastly we have whatis in many ways the most interesting picture in Florence--No. 71, the Baptism of Christ--for it is held by some authorities to be theonly known painting by Verrocchio, whose sculptures we saw in theBargello and at Or San Michele, while in one of the angels--thatsurely on the left--we are to see the hand of his pupil Leonardo daVinci. Their faces are singularly sweet. Other authorities considernot only that Verrocchio painted the whole picture himself but thathe painted also the Annunciation at the Uffizi to which Leonardo'sname is given. Be that as it may--and we shall never know--thisis a beautiful thing. According to Vasari it was the excellenceof Leonardo's contribution which decided Verrocchio to give up thebrush. Among the thoughts of Leonardo is one which comes to mind withpeculiar force before this work when we know its story: "Poor is thepupil who does not surpass his master". The second Sala di Botticelli has not the value of the first. Ithas magnificent examples of Botticelli's sacred work, but the otherpictures are not the equal of those in the other rooms. Chief of theBotticellis is No. 85, "The Virgin and Child with divers Saints, " inwhich there are certain annoying and restless elements. One feels thatin the accessories--the flooring, the curtains, and gilt--the painterwas wasting his time, while the Child is too big. Botticelli was seldomtoo happy with his babies. But the face of the Saint in green and blueon the left is most exquisitely painted, and the Virgin has rather lesstroubled beauty than usual. The whole effect is not quite spiritual, and the symbolism of the nails and the crown of thorns held up forthe Child to see is rather too cruel and obvious. I like better thesmaller picture with the same title--No. 88--in which the Saints ateach side are wholly beautiful in Botticelli's wistful way, and thepainting of their heads and head-dresses is so perfect as to fillone with a kind of despair. But taken altogether one must considerBotticelli's triumph in the Accademia to be pagan rather than sacred. No. 8, called officially School of Verrocchio, and by one firm ofphotographers Botticini, and by another Botticelli, is a fine freething, low in colour, with a quiet landscape, and is altogether adelight. It represents Tobias and the three angels, and Raphael movesnobly, although not with quite such a step as the radiant figure in asomewhat similar picture in our own National Gallery--No. 781--which, once confidently given to Verrocchio, is now attributed to Botticini;while our No. 296, which the visitor from Florence on returning toLondon should hasten to examine, is no longer Verrocchio but Schoolof Verrocchio. When we think of these attributions and then look atNo. 154 in the Accademia--another Tobias and the Angel, here givento Botticini--we have a concrete object lesson in the perilous careerthat awaits the art expert, The other pictures here are two sunny panels by Ridolfo Ghirlandaio, high up, with nice easy colouring; No. 92, an Adoration of theShepherds by Lorenzo di Credi, with a good landscape and all verysweet and quiet; No. 98, a Deposition by Filippino Lippi and Perugino, in collaboration, with very few signs of Filippino; and No. 90, a Resurrection by Raffaellino del Garbo, an uncommon painter inFlorence; the whole thing a tour de force, but not important. And now let us look at the Angelicos again. Before leaving the Accademia for the last time, one should glanceat the tapestries near the main entrance, just for fun. That one inwhich Adam names the animals is so delightfully naive that it ought tobe reproduced as a nursery wall-paper. The creatures pass in reviewin four processions, and Adam must have had to be uncommonly quickto make up his mind first and then rattle out their resultant namesin the time. The main procession is that of the larger quadrupeds, headed by the unicorn in single glory; and the moment chosen by theartist is that in which the elephant, having just heard his name(for the first time) and not altogether liking it, is turning towardsAdam in surprised remonstrance. The second procession is of reptiles, led by the snail; the third, the smaller quadrupeds, led by four rats, followed desperately close (but of course under the white flag) by twocats; while the fourth--all sorts and conditions of birds--streamsthrough the air. The others in this series are all delightful, notthe least being that in which God, having finished His work, takesAdam's arm and flies with him over the earth to point out its merits. CHAPTER XVII Two Monasteries and a Procession The Certosa--A Company of Uncles--TheCells--Machiavelli--Impruneta--Thedella Robbias--Pontassieve--Pelago--Milton'ssimile--Vallombrosa--S. Gualberto--Prato and the Lippis--The GrassinaAlbergo--An American invasion--The Procession of the Dead Christ--Myloss. Everyone who merely visits Florence holds it a duty to bring home atleast one flask of the Val d'Ema liqueur from the Carthusian monasteryfour or five miles distant from the city, not because that fierydistillation is peculiarly attractive but because the vessels whichcontain it are at once pretty decorations and evidences of travel andculture. They can be bought in Florence itself, it is true (at a shopat the corner of the Via de' Cerretani, close to the Baptistery), but the Certosa is far too interesting to miss, if one has time tospare from the city's own treasures. The trams start from the MercatoNuovo and come along the Via dell' Arcivescovado to the Baptistery, and so to the Porta Romana and out into the hilly country. The rideis dull and rather tiresome, for there is much waiting at sidings, but the expedition becomes attractive immediately the tram isleft. There is then a short walk, principally up the long narrowapproach to the monastery gates, outside which, when I was there, was sitting a beggar at a stone table, waiting for the bowl of soupto which all who ask are entitled. Passing within the courtyard you ring the bell on the right and enterthe waiting hall, from which, in the course of time, when a sufficientparty has been gathered, an elderly monk in a white robe leads youaway. How many monks there may be, I cannot say; but of the few of whomI caught a glimpse, all were alike in the possession of white beards, and all suggested uncles in fancy dress. Ours spoke good French andwas clearly a man of parts. Lulled by his soothing descriptions Ipassed in a kind of dream through this ancient abode of peace. The Certosa dates from 1341 and was built and endowed by a wealthymerchant named Niccolo Acciaioli, after whom the Lungarno Acciaioliis named. The members of the family are still buried here, certainof the tombstones bearing dates of the present century. To-day it islittle but a show place, the cells of the monks being mostly empty andthe sale of the liqueur its principal reason for existence. But themonks who are left take a pride in their church, which is attributedto Orcagna, and its possessions, among which come first the reliefmonuments of early Acciaioli in the floor of one of the chapels--thefounder's being perhaps also the work of Orcagna, while that of his sonLorenzo, who died in 1353, is attributed by our cicerone to Donatello, but by others to an unknown hand. It is certainly very beautiful. Thesetombs are the very reverse of those which we saw in S. Croce; forthose bear the obliterating traces of centuries of footsteps, so thatsome are nearly flat with the stones, whereas these have been railedoff for ever and have lost nothing. The other famous Certosa tomb isthat of Cardinal Angelo Acciaioli, which, once given to Donatello, is now sometimes attributed to Giuliano di Sangallo and sometimes tohis son Francesco. The Certosa has a few good pictures, but it is as a monastery thatit is most interesting: as one of the myriad lonely convents ofItaly, which one sees so constantly from the train, perched amongthe Apennines, and did not expect ever to enter. The cloisterswhich surround the garden, in the centre of which is a well, andbeneath which is the distillery, are very memorable, not only fortheir beauty but for the sixty and more medallions of saints andevangelists all round it by Giovanni della Robbia. Here the monkshave sunned themselves, and here been buried, these five and a halfcenturies. One suite of rooms is shown, with its own little privategarden and no striking discomfort except the hole in the wall bythe bed, through which the sleeper is awakened. From its balcony onesees the Etna far below and hears the roar of a weir, and away in thedistance is Florence with the Duomo and a third of Giotto's Campanilevisible above the intervening hills. Having shown you all the sights the monk leads you again to theentrance hall and bids you good-bye, with murmurs of surprise anda hint of reproach on discovering a coin in his hand, for which, however, none the less, he manages in the recesses of his robe tofind a place; and you are then directed to the room where the liqueur, together with sweets and picture post-cards, is sold by another monk, assisted by a lay attendant, and the visit to the Certosa is over. The tram that passes the Certosa continues to S. Casciano in theChianti district (but much wine is called Chianti that never camefrom here), where there is a point of interest in the house to whichMachiavelli retired in 1512, to give himself to literature and to livethat wonderful double life--a peasant loafer by day in the fields andthe village inn, and at night, dressed in his noblest clothes, thecold, sagacious mentor of the rulers of mankind. But at S. CascianoI did not stop. And farther still one comes to the village of Impruneta, after climbinghigher and higher, with lovely calm valleys on either side colouredby silver olive groves and vivid wheat and maize, and studded withwhite villas and villages and church towers. On the road every womanin every doorway plaits straw with rapid fingers just as if we were inBedfordshire. Impruneta is famous for its new terra-cotta vessels andits ancient della Robbias. For in the church is some of Luca's mostexquisite work--an altarpiece with a frieze of aerial angels under it, and a stately white saint on either side, and the loveliest decoratedcolumns imaginable; while in an adjoining chapel is a Christ crucifiedmourned by the most dignified and melancholy of Magdalens. Andrea dellaRobbia is here too, and here also is a richly designed cantoria by Minoda Fiesole. The village is not in the regular programme of visitors, and Baedeker ignores it; hence perhaps the excitement which an arrivalfrom Florence causes, for the children turn out in battalions. Thechurch is very dirty, and so indeed is everything else; but no amountof grime can disguise the charm of the cloisters. The Certosa is a mere half-hour from Florence, Impruneta an hourand a half; but Vallombrosa asks a long day. One can go by rail, changing at Sant' Ellero into the expensive rack-and-pinion car whichclimbs through the vineyards to a point near the summit, and has, since it was opened, brought to the mountain so many new residents, whose little villas cling to the western slopes among the lizards, and, in summer, are smitten unbearably by the sun. But the best wayto visit the monastery and the groves is by road. A motor-car nodoubt makes little of the journey; but a carriage and pair such as Ichartered at Florence for forty-five lire has to be away before seven, and, allowing three hours on the top, is not back again until thesame hour in the evening; and this, the ancient way, with the beatof eight hoofs in one's ears, is the right way. For several miles the road and the river--the Arno--run side byside--and the railway close by too--through venerable villages whoseinhabitants derive their living either from the soil or the water, and amid vineyards all the time. Here and there a white villa is seen, but for the most part this is peasants' district: one such villaon the left, before Pontassieve, having about it, and on each sideof its drive, such cypresses as one seldom sees and only Gozzoli orMr. Sargent could rightly paint, each in his own style. Not far beyond, in a scrap of meadow by the road, sat a girl knitting in the morningsun--with a placid glance at us as we rattled by; and ten hours later, when we rattled past again, there she still was, still knitting, inthe evening sun, and again her quiet eyes were just raised and dropped. At Pontassieve we stopped a while for coffee at an inn at the cornerof the square of pollarded limes, and while it was preparing watchedthe little crumbling town at work, particularly the cooper opposite, who was finishing a massive cask within whose recesses good Chiantiis doubtless now maturing; and then on the white road again, to theturning, a mile farther on, to the left, where one bids the Arnofarewell till the late afternoon. Steady climbing now, and then aturn to the right and we see Pelago before us, perched on its crags, and by and by come to it--a tiny town, with a clean and alluringinn, very different from the squalor of Pontassieve: famous in artand particularly Florentine art as being the birthplace of LorenzoGhiberti, who made the Baptistery doors. From Pelago the road descendswith extreme steepness to a brook in a rocky valley, at a bridge overwhich the real climb begins, to go steadily on (save for another swiftdrop before Tosi) until Vallombrosa is reached, winding through woodsall the way, chiefly chestnut--those woods which gave Milton, who washere in 1638, his famous simile. [6] The heat was now becoming intense(it was mid-September) and the horses were suffering, and most of thislast stage was done at walking pace; but such was the exhilaration ofthe air, such the delight of the aromas which the breeze continuallywafted from the woods, now sweet, now pungent, and always refreshing, that one felt no fatigue even though walking too. And so at last themonastery, and what was at that moment better than anything, lunch. The beauty and joy of Vallombrosa, I may say at once, are Nature's, not man's. The monastery, which is now a Government school offorestry, is ugly and unkempt; the hotel is unattractive; the fewpeople one meets want to sell something or take you for a drive. Butin an instant in any direction one can be in the woods--and at thislevel they are pine woods, soft underfoot and richly perfumed--anda quarter of an hour's walking brings the view. It is then that yourealize you are on a mountain indeed. Florence is to the north-westin the long Arno valley, which is here precipitous and narrow. Theriver is far below--if you slipped you would slide into it--fed bytumbling Apennine streams from both walls. The top of the mountainis heathery like Scotland, and open; but not long will it be so, for everywhere are the fenced parallelograms which indicate that avilla is to be erected. Nothing, however, can change the mountainair or the glory of the surrounding heights. Another view, unbroken by villas but including the monastery and theForesters' Hotel in the immediate foreground, and extending as far asFlorence itself (on suitable days), is obtained from Il Paradisino, a white building on a ledge which one sees from the hotel above themonastery. But that is not by any means the top. The view covers muchof the way by which we came hither. Of the monastery of Vallombrosa we have had foreshadowings inFlorence. We saw at the Accademia two exquisite portraits by FraBartolommeo of Vallombrosan monks. We saw at the Bargello the remainsof a wonderful frieze by Benedetto da Rovezzano for the tomb ofthe founder of the order, S. Giovanni Gualberto; we shall see atS. Miniato scenes in the saint's life on the site of the ancientchapel where the crucifix bent and blessed him. As the head of themonastery Gualberto was famous for the severity and thoroughness ofhis discipline. But though a martinet as an abbot, personally he washumble and mild. His advice on all kinds of matters is said to havebeen invited even by kings and popes. He invented the system of laybrothers to help with the domestic work of the convent; and after alife of holiness, which comprised several miracles, he died in 1073and was subsequently canonized. The monastery, as I have said, is now secularized, save for the chapel, where three resident monks perform service. One may wander through itsrooms and see in the refectory, beneath portraits of famous brothers, the tables now laid for young foresters. The museum of forestry isinteresting to those interested in museums of forestry. It was to the monastery at Vallombrosa that the Brownings travelledin 1848 when Mrs. Browning was ill. But the abbot could not break therules in regard to women, and after five days they had to return toFlorence. Browning used to play the organ in the chapel, as, it issaid, Milton had done two centuries earlier. At such a height and with only a short season the hotel proprietorsmust do what they can, and prices do not rule low. A departing Americanwas eyeing his bill with a rueful glance as we were leaving. "Miltonhad it wrong, " he said to me (with the freemasonry of the plucked, for I knew him not), "what he meant was, 'thick as thieves'. " We returned by way of Sant' Ellero, the gallant horses trottingsteadily down the hill, and then beside the Arno once more all theway to Florence. It chanced to be a great day in the city--September20th, the anniversary of the final defeat of papal temporal power, in 1870--which we were not sorry to have missed, the first tidingscoming to us from the beautiful tower of the Palazzo Vecchio whichin honour of the occasion had been picked out with fairy lamps. Among the excursions which I think ought to be made if one is inFlorence for a justifying length of time is a visit to Prato. Thisancient town one should see for several things: for its age and forits walls; for its great piazza (with a pile of vividly dyed yarnin the midst) surrounded by arches under which coppersmiths hammerall day at shining rotund vessels, while their wives plait straw;for Filippino Lippi's exquisite Madonna in a little mural shrine atthe narrow end of the piazza, which a woman (fetched by a crowd ofragged boys) will unlock for threepence; and for the cathedral, withFilippino's dissolute father's frescoes in it, the Salome being oneof the most interesting pre-Botticelli scenes in Italian art. If onlyit had its colour what a wonder of lightness and beauty this stillwould be! But probably most people are attracted to Prato chiefly byDonatello and Michelozzo's outdoor pulpit, the frieze of which is akind of prentice work for the famous cantoria in the museum of thecathedral at Florence, with just such wanton boys dancing round it. On Good Friday evening in the lovely dying April light I paidthirty centimes to be taken by tram to Grassina to see the famousprocession of the Gesù Morto. The number of people on the sameerrand having thrown out the tram service, we had very long waits, while the road was thronged with other vehicles; and the result wasI was tired enough--having been standing all the way--when Grassinawas reached, for festivals six miles out of Florence at seven in theevening disarrange good habits. But a few pence spent in the albergoon bread and cheese and wine soon restored me. A queer cavern of aplace, this inn, with rough tables, rows and rows of wine flasks, and an open fire behind the bar, tended by an old woman, from whicheverything good to eat proceeded rapidly without dismay--roast chickenand fish in particular. A strapping girl with high cheek bones and abroad dark comely face washed plates and glasses assiduously, and twowaiters, with eyes as near together as monkeys', served the customerswith bewildering intelligence. It was the sort of inn that in Englandwould throw up its hands if you asked even for cold beef. The piazza of Grassina, which, although merely a village, isenterprising enough to have a cinematoscope hall, was full ofstalls given chiefly to the preparation and sale of cake like theDutch wafelen, and among the stalls were conjurors, cheap-jacks, singers, and dice throwers; while every moment brought its freshmotor-car or carriage load, nearly all speaking English with a nasaltwang. Meanwhile every one shouted, the naphtha flared, the drums beat, the horses champed. The street was full too, chiefly of peasants, but among them myriad resolute American virgins, in motor veils, whomnothing can ever surprise; a few American men, sceptical, as ever, of anything ever happening; here and there a diffident Englishwomanand Englishman, more in the background, but destined in the endto see all. But what I chiefly noticed was the native girls, withtheir proud bosoms carried high and nothing on their heads. They atany rate know their own future. No rushing over the globe for them, but the simple natural home life and children. In the gloom the younger girls in white muslin were like prettyghosts, each followed by a solicitous mother giving a touch hereand a touch there--mothers who once wore muslin too, will wear it nomore, and are now happy in pride in their daughters. And very littlegirls too--mere tots--wearing wings, who very soon were to join theprocession as angels. And all the while the darkness was growing, and on the hill where thechurch stands lights were beginning to move about, in that mysteriousway which torches have when a procession is being mobilized, whileall the villas on the hills around had their rows of candles. And then the shifting flames came gradually into a mass and tooka steady upward progress, and the melancholy strains of an ancientecclesiastical lamentation reached our listening ears. As the lightsdrew nearer I left the bank where all the Mamies and Sadies withtheir Mommas were stationed and walked down into the river valleyto meet the vanguard. On the bridge I found a little band of Romansoldiers on horseback, without stirrups, and had a few words withone of them as to his anachronistic cigarette, and then the firsttorches arrived, carried by proud little boys in red; and after thetorches the little girls in muslin veils, which were, however, forthe most part disarranged for the better recognition of relationsand even more perhaps for recognition by relations: and very prettythis recognition was on both sides. And then the village priests infull canonicals, looking a little self-conscious; and after them thedead Christ on a litter carried by a dozen contadini who had a gooddeal to say to each other as they bore Him. This was the same dead Christ which had been lying in state in thechurch, for the past few days, to be worshipped and kissed by thepeasantry. I had seen a similar image at Settignano the day before andhad watched how the men took it. They began by standing in groups inthe piazza, gossipping. Then two or three would break away and makefor the church. There, all among the women and children, half-shyly, half-defiantly, they pecked at the plaster flesh and returned to resumethe conversation in the piazza with a new serenity and confidence intheir hearts. After the dead Christ came a triumphal car of the very little girlswith wings, signifying I know not what, but intensely satisfying tothe onlookers. One little wet-nosed cherub I patted, so chubby andinnocent she was; and Heaven send that the impulse profited me! Thiscar was drawn by an ancient white horse, amiable and tractable as asaint, but as bewildered as I as to the meaning of the whole strangebusiness. After the car of angels a stalwart body of white-vestmentedsingers, sturdy fellows with black moustaches who had been all dayamong the vines, or steering placid white oxen through the furrows, and were now lifting their voices in a miserere. And after them thepainted plaster Virgin, carried as upright as possible, and thenmore torches and the wailing band; and after the band another guardof Roman soldiers. Such was the Grassina procession. It passed slowly and solemnly throughthe town from the hill and up the hill again; and not soon shall Iforget the mournfulness of the music, which nothing of tawdriness inthe constituents of the procession itself could rid of impressivenessand beauty. One thing is certain--all processions, by day or night, should first descend a hill and then ascend one. All should walk tomelancholy strains. Indeed, a joyful procession becomes an impossiblethought after this. And then I sank luxuriously into a corner seat in the waiting tram, and, seeking for the return journey's thirty centimes, found thatduring the proceedings my purse had been stolen. CHAPTER XVIII S. Marco Andrea del Castagno--"The Last Supper"--The stolen Madonna--FraAngelico's frescoes--"Little Antony"--The good archbishop--TheBuonuomini--Savonarola--The death of Lorenzo the Magnificent--PopeAlexander VI--The Ordeal by Fire--The execution--The S. Marcocells--The cloister frescoes--Ghirlandaio's "Last Supper"--Relics ofold Florence--Pico and Politian--Piero di Cosimo--Andrea del Sarto. From the Accademia it is but a step to S. Marco, across the Piazza, butit is well first to go a little beyond that in order to see a certainpainting which both chronologically and as an influence comes beforea painting that we shall find in the Museo S. Marco. We thereforecross the Piazza S. Marco to the Via d'Arrazzieri, which leads intothe Via 27 Aprile, [7] where at a door on the left, marked A, is anancient refectory, preserved as a picture gallery: the Cenacolo diS. Apollonia, all that is kept sacred of the monastery of S. Apollonia, now a military establishment. This room is important to students ofart in containing so much work of Andrea del Castagno (1390-1457), to whom Vasari gives so black a character. The portrait frescoes arefrom the Villa Pandolfini (previously Carducci), and among them areBoccaccio, Petrarch, and Dante--who is here rather less ascetic thanusual--none of whom the painter could have seen. There is also a verycharming little cupid carrying a huge peacock plume. But "The LastSupper" is the glory of the room. This work, which belongs to themiddle of the fifteenth century, is interesting as a real effort atpsychology. Leonardo makes Judas leave his seat to ask if it is hethat is meant--that being the dramatic moment chosen by this princeof painters: Castagno calls attention to Judas as an undesirablemember of the little band of disciples by placing him apart, theonly one on his side of the table; which was avoiding the real task, since naturally when one of the company was forced into so sinistera position the question would be already answered. Castagno indeedrenders Judas so obviously untrustworthy as to make it a surprisethat he ever was admitted among the disciples (or wished to be one)at all; while Vasari blandly suggests that he is the very image of thepainter himself. Other positions which later artists converted into aconvention may also be noted: John, for example, is reclining on thetable in an ecstasy of affection and fidelity; while the Florentineloggia as the scene of the meal was often reproduced later. Andrea del Castagno began life as a farm lad, but was educated as anartist at the cost of one of the less notable Medici. He had a vigorousway with his brush, as we see here and have seen elsewhere. In theDuomo, for example, we saw his equestrian portrait of Niccolò daTolentino, a companion to Uccello's Hawkwood. When the Albizzi andPeruzzi intrigues which had led to the banishment of Cosimo de' Medicicame to their final frustration with the triumphant return of Cosimo, it was Andrea who was commissioned by the Signoria to paint for theoutside of the Bargello a picture of the leaders of the insurrection, upside down. Vasari is less to be trusted in his dates and facts in hismemoir of Andrea del Castagno than anywhere else; for he states thathe commemorated the failure of the Pazzi Conspiracy (which occurredtwenty years after his death), and accuses him not only of murderinghis fellow-painter Domenico Veneziano but confessing to the crime;the best answer to which allegation is that Domenico survived Andreaby four years. We may now return to S. Marco. The convent as we now see it wasbuilt by Michelozzo, Donatello's friend and partner and the friendalso of Cosimo de' Medici, at whose cost he worked here. Antonino, the saintly head of the monastery, having suggested to Cosimo thathe should apply some of his wealth, not always too nicely obtained, to the Lord, Cosimo began literally to squander money on S. Marco, dividing his affection between S. Lorenzo, which he completed uponthe lines laid down by his father, and this Dominican monastery, where he even had a cell reserved for his own use, with a bedroomin addition, whither he might now and again retire for spiritualrefreshment and quiet. It was at S. Marco that Cosimo kept the MSS. Which he was constantlycollecting, and which now, after curious vicissitudes, are lodgedin Michelangelo's library at S. Lorenzo; and on his death he leftthem to the monks. Cosimo's librarian was Tommaso Parenticelli, alittle busy man, who, to the general astonishment, on the death ofEugenius IV became Pope and took the name of Nicholas V. His energiesas Pontiff went rather towards learning and art than anything else: helaid the foundations of the Vatican library, on the model of Cosimo's, and persuaded Fra Angelico to Rome to paint Vatican frescoes. The magnets which draw every one who visits Florence to S. Marco arefirst Fra Angelico, and secondly Savonarola, or first Savonarola, andsecondly Fra Angelico, according as one is constituted. Fra Angelico, at Cosimo's desire and cost, came from Fiesole to paint here; whileGirolamo Savonarola, forced to leave Ferrara during the war, enteredthese walls in 1482. Fra Angelico in his single crucifixion picture inthe first cloisters and in his great scene of the Mount of Olives inthe chapter house shows himself less incapable of depicting unhappinessthan we have yet seen him; but the most memorable of the ground-floorfrescoes is the symbol of hospitality over the door of the wayfarers'room, where Christ is being welcomed by two Dominicans in the waythat Dominicans (as contrasted with scoundrelly Franciscans) would ofcourse welcome Him. In this Ospizio are three reliquaries which FraAngelico painted for S. Maria Novella, now preserved here in a glasscase. They represent the Madonna della Stella, the Coronation of theVirgin, and the Adoration of the Magi. All are in Angelico's happiestmanner, with plenty of gold; and the predella of the Coronation isthe prettiest thing possible, with its blue saints gathered about ablue Mary and Joseph, who bend over the Baby. The Madonna della Stella is the picture which was stolen in 1911, butquickly recovered. It is part of the strange complexity of this worldthat it should equally contain artists such as Fra Angelico and thievessuch as those who planned and carried out this robbery: nominallycustodians of the museum. To repeat one of Vasari's sentences: "Somesay that he never took up his brush without first making a prayer". .. . The "Peter" with his finger to his lips, over the sacristy, isreminding the monks that that room is vowed to silence. In the chapterhouse is the large Crucifixion by the same gentle hand, his greatestwork in Florence, and very fine and true in character. Beneath itare portraits of seventeen famous Dominicans with S. Dominic inthe midst. Note the girl with the scroll in the right--how gay andlight the colouring. Upstairs, in the cells, and pre-eminently in thepassage, where his best known Annunciation is to be seen, Angelico isat his best. In each cell is a little fresco reminding the brotherof the life of Christ--and of those by Angelico it may be said thateach is as simple as it can be and as sweet: easy lines, easy colours, with the very spirit of holiness shining out. I think perhaps that theCoronation of the Virgin in the ninth cell, reproduced in this volume, is my favourite, as it is of many persons; but the Annunciation in thethird, the two Maries at the Sepulchre in the eighth, and the Childin the Stable in the fifth, are ever memorable too. In the cell setapart for Cosimo de' Medici, No. 38, which the officials point out, is an Adoration of the Magi, painted there at Cosimo's express wish, that he might be reminded of the humility proper to rulers; and herewe get one of the infrequent glimpses of this best and wisest of theMedici, for a portrait of him adorns it, with a wrong death-date on it. Here also is a sensitive terra-cotta bust of S. Antonio, Cosimo'sfriend and another pride of the monastery: the monk who was alsoArchbishop of Florence until his death, and whom we saw, in stone, ina niche under the Uffizi. His cell was the thirty-first cell, oppositethe entrance. This benign old man, who has one of the kindest facesof his time, which was often introduced into pictures, was appointedto the see at the suggestion of Fra Angelico, to whom Pope Eugenius(who consecrated the new S. Marco in 1442 and occupied Cosimo de'Medici's cell on his visit) had offered it; but the painter declinedand put forward Antonio in his stead. Antonio Pierozzi, whose destinyit was to occupy this high post, to be a confidant of Cosimo de'Medici, and ultimately, in 1523, to be enrolled among the saints, was born at Florence in 1389. According to Butler, from the cradle"Antonino" or "Little Antony, " as the Florentines affectionatelycalled him, had "no inclination but to piety, " and was an enemy evenas an infant "both to sloth and to the amusements of children". Asa schoolboy his only pleasure was to read the lives of the saints, converse with pious persons or to pray. When not at home or at schoolhe was in church, either kneeling or lying prostrate before a crucifix, "with a perseverance that astonished everybody". S. Dominic himself, preaching at Fiesole, made him a Dominican, his answers to anexamination of the whole decree of Gratian being the deciding cause, although Little Antony was then but sixteen. As a priest he was"never seen at the altar but bathed in tears". After being prior ofa number of convents and a counsellor of much weight in convocation, he was made Archbishop of Florence: but was so anxious to avoid thehonour and responsibility that he hid in the island of Sardinia. Onbeing discovered he wrote a letter praying to be excused and watered itwith his tears; but at last he consented and was consecrated in 1446. As archbishop his life was a model of simplicity and solicitude. Hethought only of his duties and the well-being of the poor. His pursewas open to all in need, and he "often sold" his single mule in orderto relieve some necessitous person. He gave up his garden to the growthof vegetables for the poor, and kept an ungrateful leper whose soreshe dressed with his own hands. He died in 1459 and was canonized in1523. His body was still free from corruption in 1559, when it wastranslated to the chapel in S. Marco prepared for it by the Salviati. But perhaps the good Antonino's finest work was the foundation of aphilanthropic society of Florentines which still carries on its goodwork. Antonino's sympathy lay in particular with the reduced familiesof Florence, and it was to bring help secretly to them--too proud tobeg--that he called for volunteers. The society was known in the cityas the Buonuomini (good men) of S. Martino, the little church close toDante's house, behind the Badia: S. Martin being famous among saintsfor his impulsive yet wise generosity with his cloak. The other and most famous prior of S. Marco was Savonarola. GirolamoSavonarola was born of noble family at Ferrara in 1452, and after aprofound education, in which he concentrated chiefly upon religion andphilosophy, he entered the Dominican order at the age of twenty-two. Hefirst came to S. Marco at the age of thirty and preached there inLent in 1482, but without attracting much notice. When, however, hereturned to S. Marco seven years later it was to be instantly hailedboth as a powerful preacher and reformer. His eloquent and burningdeclarations were hurled both at Florence and Rome: at the apathy andgreed of the Church as a whole, and at the sinfulness and luxury ofthis city, while Lorenzo the Magnificent, who was then at the heightof his influence, surrounded by accomplished and witty hedonists, and happiest when adding to his collection of pictures, jewels, and sculpture, in particular did the priest rebuke. Savonarola stoodfor the spiritual ideals and asceticism of the Baptist, Christ, andS. Paul; Lorenzo, in his eyes, made only for sensuality and decadence. The two men, however, recognized each other's genius, and Lorenzo, with the tolerance which was as much a mark of the first threeMedici rulers as its absence was notable in most of the later ones, rather encouraged Savonarola in his crusade than not. He visited himin the monastery and did not resent being kept waiting; and he wentto hear him preach. In 1492 Lorenzo died, sending for Savonarola onhis death-bed, which was watched by the two closest of his scholarlyfriends, Pico della Mirandola and Politian. The story of what happenedhas been variously told. According to the account of Politian, Lorenzomet his end with fortitude, and Savonarola prayed with the dying manand gave him his blessing; according to another account, Lorenzo wascalled upon by Savonarola to make three undertakings before he died, and, Lorenzo declining, Savonarola left him unabsolved. These promiseswere (1) to repent of all his sins, and in particular of the sackof Volterra, of the alleged theft of public dowry funds and of theimplacable punishment of the Pazzi conspirators; (2) to restore allproperty of which he had become possessed by unjust means; and (3)to give back to Florence her liberty. But the probabilities are infavour of Politian's account being the true one, and the later storya political invention. Lorenzo dead and Piero his son so incapable, Savonarola came to hisown. He had long foreseen a revolution following on the death ofLorenzo, and in one of his most powerful sermons he had suggestedthat the "Flagellum Dei" to punish the wicked Florentines might bea foreign invader. When therefore in 1493 the French king CharlesVIII arrived in Italy with his army, Savonarola was recognized notonly as a teacher but as a prophet; and when the Medici had beenagain banished and Charles, having asked too much, had retreatedfrom Florence, the Republic was remodelled with Savonarola virtuallycontrolling its Great Council. For a year or two his power was supreme. This was the period of the Piagnoni, or Weepers. The citizens adoptedsober attire; a spirit as of England under the Puritans prevailed;and Savonarola's eloquence so far carried away not only the populacebut many persons of genius that a bonfire was lighted in the middleof the Piazza della Signoria in which costly dresses, jewels, falsehair and studies from the nude were destroyed. Savonarola, meanwhile, was not only chastising and reforming Florence, but with fatal audacity was attacking with even less mincing of wordsthe licentiousness of the Pope. As to the character of Lorenzo de'Medici there can be two opinions, and indeed the historians of Florenceare widely divided in their estimates; but of Roderigo Borgia (PopeAlexander VI) there is but one, and Savonarola held it. Savonarolawas excommunicated, but refused to obey the edict. Popes, however, although Florence had to a large extent put itself out of reach, have long arms, and gradually--taking advantage of the city's growingdiscontent with piety and tears and recurring unquiet, there beingstill a strong pro-Medici party, and building not a little on hisknowledge of the Florentine love of change--the Pope gathered togethersufficient supporters of his determination to crush this too outspokencritic and humiliate his fellow-citizens. Events helped the pontiff. A pro-Medici conspiracy excited thepopulace; a second bonfire of vanities led to rioting, for theFlorentines were beginning to tire of virtue; and the preaching of aFranciscan monk against Savonarola (and the gentle Fra Angelico hasshown us, in the Accademia, how Franciscans and Dominicans could hateeach other) brought matters to a head, for he challenged Savaronolato an ordeal by fire in the Loggia de' Lanzi, to test which of themspoke with the real voice of God. A Dominican volunteered to make theessay with a Franciscan. This ceremony, anticipated with the liveliesteagerness by the Florentines, was at the last moment forbidden, and Savonarola, who had to bear the responsibility of such a bitterdisappointment to a pleasure-loving people, became an unpopularfigure. Everything just then was against him, for Charles VIII, with whom he had an understanding and of whom the Pope was afraid, chose that moment to die. The Pope drove home his advantage, and getting more power amongindividuals on the Council forced them to indict their firebrand. Nomeans were spared, however base; forgery and false witness were asnothing. The summons arrived on April 8th, 1497, when Savonarola wasat S. Marco. The monks, who adored him, refused to let him go, andfor a whole day the convent was under siege. But might, of course, prevailed, and Savonarola was dragged from the church to the PalazzoVecchio and prosecuted for the offence of claiming to have supernaturalpower and fomenting political disturbance. He was imprisoned in a tinycell in the tower for many days, and under constant torture he no doubtuttered words which would never have passed his lips had he been incontrol of himself; but we may dismiss, as false, the evidence whichmakes them into confessions. Evidence there had to be, and evidencenaturally was forthcoming; and sentence of death was passed. In that cell, when not under torture, he managed to write meditationson the thirteenth psalm, "In Thee, O Lord, have I hoped, " and a littlework entitled "A Rule for Living a Christian Life". Before the lastday he administered the Sacrament to his two companions, who were todie with him, with perfect composure, and the night preceding theyspent together in prayer in the Great Hall which he had once dominated. The execution was on May 23rd, 1498. A gallows was erected inthe Piazza della Signoria on the spot now marked by the bronzetablet. Beneath the gallows was a bonfire. All those members of theGovernment who could endure the scene were present, either on theplatform of the Palazzo Vecchio or in the Loggia de' Lanzi. The crowdfilled the Piazza. The three monks went to their death unafraid. Whenhis friar's gown was taken from him, Savonarola said: "Holy gown, thou wert granted to me by God's grace and I have ever kept theeunstained. Now I forsake thee not but am bereft of thee. " (This verygarment is in the glass case in Savonarola's cell at S. Marco. ) TheBishop replied hastily: "I separate thee from the Church militantand triumphant". "Militant, " replied Savonarola, "not triumphant, forthat rests not with you. " The monks were first hanged and then burned. The larger picture of the execution which hangs in Savonarola'scell, although interesting and up to a point credible, is of coursenot right. The square must have been crowded: in fact we know itwas. The picture has still other claims on the attention, for itshows the Judith and Holofernes as the only statue before the PalazzoVecchio, standing where David now is; it shows the old ringhiera, the Marzocco (very inaccurately drawn), and the Loggia de' Lanziempty of statuary. We have in the National Gallery a little portraitof Savonarola--No. 1301--with another representation of the executionon the back of it. So far as I can understand Savonarola, his failure was due totwo causes: firstly, his fatal blending of religion and politics, and secondly, the conviction which his temporary success with thesusceptible Florentines bred in his heated mind that he was destinedto carry all before him, totally failing to appreciate the Florentinecharacter with all its swift and deadly changes and love of change. AsI see it, Savonarola's special mission at that time was to be awandering preacher, spreading the light and exciting his listeners tospiritual revival in this city and that, but never to be in a positionof political power and never to become rooted. The peculiar tragedyof his career is that he left Florence no better than he found it:indeed, very likely worse; for in a reaction from a spiritual revivala lower depth can be reached than if there had been no revival at all;while the visit of the French army to Italy, for which Savonarola tooksuch credit to himself, merely ended in disaster for Italy, diseasefor Europe, and the spreading of the very Renaissance spirit whichhe had toiled to destroy. But, when all is said as to his tragedy, personal and political, there remains this magnificent isolated figure, single-minded, austere and self-sacrificing, in an age of indulgence. For most people "Romola" is the medium through which Savonarola isvisualized; but there he is probably made too theatrical. Yet hemust have had something of the theatre in him even to consent to theordeal by fire. That he was an intense visionary is beyond doubt, but a very real man too we must believe when we read of the devotionof his monks to his person, and of his success for a while with theshrewd, worldly Great Council. Savonarola had many staunch friends among the artists. We have seenLorenzo di Credi and Fra Bartolommeo under his influence. Afterhis death Fra Bartolommeo entered S. Marco (his cell was No. 34), and di Credi, who was noted for his clean living, entered S. MariaNuova. Two of Luca della Robbia's nephews were also monks underSavonarola. We have seen Fra Bartolommeo's portrait of Savonarola inthe Accademia, and there is another of him here. Cronaca, who builtthe Great Council's hall, survived Savonarola only ten years, andduring that time all his stories were of him. Michelangelo, who wasa young man when he heard him preach, read his sermons to the end ofhis long life. But upon Botticelli his influence was most powerful, for he turned that master's hand from such pagan allegories as the"Primavera" and the "Birth of Venus" wholly to religious subjects. Savonarola had three adjoining cells. In the first is a monument tohim, his portrait by Fra Bartolommeo and three frescoes by the samehand. In the next room is the glass case containing his robe, hishair shirt, and rosary; and here also are his desk and some books. Inthe bedroom is a crucifixion by Fra Angelico on linen. No one knowingSavonarola's story can remain here unmoved. We find Fra Bartolommeo again with a pencil drawing of S. Antonioin that saint's cell. Here also is Antonino's death-mask. Theterra-cotta bust of him in Cosimo's cell is the most like life, butthere is an excellent and vivacious bronze in the right transept ofS. Maria Novella. Before passing downstairs again the library should be visited, thatdelightful assemblage of grey pillars and arches. Without its desksand cases it would be one of the most beautiful rooms in Florence. Allthe books have gone, save the illuminated music. In the first cloisters, which are more liveable-in than the ordinaryFlorentine cloisters, having a great shady tree in the midst with aseat round it, and flowers, are the Fra Angelicos I have mentioned. Theother painting is rather theatrical and poor. In the refectory isa large scene of the miracle of the Providenza, when S. Dominic andhis companions, during a famine, were fed by two angels with bread;while at the back S. Antonio watches the crucified Christ. The artistis Sogliano. In addition to Fra Angelico's great crucifixion fresco in the chapterhouse, is a single Christ crucified, with a monk mourning, by AntonioPollaiuolo, very like the Fra Angelico in the cloisters; but thecolour has left it, and what must have been some noble cypresses arenow ghosts dimly visible. The frame is superb. One other painting we must see--the "Last Supper" of DomenicoGhirlandaio. Florence has two "Last Suppers" by this artist--one atthe Ognissanti and this. The two works are very similar and have muchentertaining interest, but the debt which this owes to Castagno is veryobvious: it is indeed Castagno sweetened. Although psychologically thispicture is weak, or at any rate not strong, it is full of pleasanttouches: the supper really is a supper, as it too often is not, with fruit and dishes and a generous number of flasks; the tableclothwould delight a good housekeeper; a cat sits close to Judas, his onlycompanion; a peacock perches in a niche; there are flowers on the wall, and at the back of the charming loggia where the feast is held areluxuriant trees, and fruits, and flying birds. The monks at food inthis small refectory had compensation for their silence in so engaginga scene. This room also contains a beautiful della Robbia "Deposition". The little refectory, which is at the foot of the stairs leading tothe cells, opens on the second cloisters, and these few visitors everenter. But they are of deep interest to any one with a passion forthe Florence of the great days, for it is here that the municipalitypreserves the most remarkable relics of buildings that have had tobe destroyed. It is in fact the museum of the ancient city. Here, for example, is that famous figure of Abundance, in grey stone, which Donatello made for the old market, where the Piazza VittorioEmmanuele now is, in the midst of which she poured forth her fruitsfrom a cornucopia high on a column for all to see. Opposite is amagnificent doorway designed by Donatello for the Pazzi garden. Oldwindows, chimney-pieces, fragments of cornice, carved pillars, painted beams, coats of arms, are everywhere. In cell No. 3 is a pretty little coloured relief of the Virginadoring, which I covet, from a tabernacle in the old Piazza diBrunelleschi. Here too are relics of the guild houses of some ofthe smaller Arti, while perhaps the most humanly interesting thingof all is the great mournful bell of S. Marco in Savonarola's time, known as La Piagnone. In the church of S. Marco lie two of the learned men, friends ofLorenzo de' Medici, whose talk at the Medici table was one of theyouthful Michelangelo's educative influences, what time he was studyingin the Medici garden, close by: Angelo Poliziano (1454-1494), thepoet and the tutor of the three Medici boys, and the marvellous Picodella Mirandola (1463-1494), the enchanted scholar. Pico was one of themost fascinating and comely figures of his time. He was born in 1463, the son of the Count of Mirandola, and took early to scholarship, spending his time among philosophies as other boys among games orS. Antonio at his devotions, but by no means neglecting polished lifetoo, for we know him to have been handsome, accomplished, and a knightin the court of Venus. In 1486 he challenged the whole world to meethim in Rome and dispute publicly upon nine hundred theses; but somany of them seemed likely to be paradoxes against the true faith, too brilliantly defended, that the Pope forbade the contest. Picodabbled in the black arts, wrote learnedly (in his room at the Badiaof Fiesole) on the Mosaic law, was an amorous poet in Italian as wellas a serious poet in Latin, and in everything he did was interestingand curious, steeped in Renaissance culture, and inspired by the wishto reconcile the past and the present and humanize Christ and theFathers. He found time also to travel much, and he gave most of hisfortune to establish a fund to provide penniless girls with marriageportions. He had enough imagination to be the close friend both ofLorenzo de' Medici and Savonarola. Savonarola clothed his dead bodyin Dominican robes and made him posthumously one of the order whichfor some time before his death he had desired to join. He died in1494 at the early age of thirty-one, two years after Lorenzo. Angelo Poliziano, known as Politian, was also a Renaissance scholarand also a friend of Lorenzo, and his companion, with Pico, athis death-bed; but although in precocity, brilliancy of gifts, and literary charm he may be classed with Pico, the comparisonthere ends, for he was a gross sensualist of mean exterior andcapable of much pettiness. He was tutor to Lorenzo's sons untiltheir mother interfered, holding that his views were far too loose, but while in that capacity he taught also Michelangelo and put himupon the designing of his relief of the battle of the Lapithae andCentaurs. At the time of Lorenzo and Giuliano's famous tournamentin the Piazza of S. Croce, Poliziano wrote, as I have said, thedescriptive allegorical poem which gave Botticelli ideas for his"Birth of Venus" and "Primavera". He lives chiefly by his Latin poems;but he did much to make the language of Tuscany a literary tongue. Hiselegy on the death of Lorenzo has real feeling in it and proves him tohave esteemed that friend and patron. Like Pico, he survived Lorenzoonly two years, and he also was buried in Dominican robes. Perhapsthe finest feat of Poliziano's life was his action in slamming thesacristy doors in the face of Lorenzo's pursuers on that fatal dayin the Duomo when Giuliano de' Medici was stabbed. Ghirlandaio's fresco in S. Trinità of the granting of the charterto S. Francis gives portraits both of Poliziano and Lorenzo in theyear 1485. Lorenzo stands in a little group of four in the right-handcorner, holding out his hand towards Poliziano, who, with Lorenzo'sson Giuliano on his right and followed by two other boys, is advancingup the steps. Poliziano is seen again in a Ghirlandaio fresco atS. Maria Novella. From S. Marco we are going to SS. Annunziata, but first let us justtake a few steps down the Via Cavour, in order to pass the CasinoMedici, since it is built on the site of the old Medici garden whereLorenzo de' Medici established Bertoldo, the sculptor, as head of aschool of instruction, amid those beautiful antiques which we haveseen in the Uffizi, and where the boy Michelangelo was a student. A few steps farther on the left, towards the Fiesole heights, whichwe can see rising at the end of the street, we come, at No. 69, to alittle doorway which leads to a little courtyard--the Chiostro delloScalzo--decorated with frescoes by Andrea del Sarto and Franciabigioand containing the earliest work of both artists. The frescoes are inmonochrome, which is very unusual, but their interest is not impairedthereby: one does not miss other colours. No. 7, the Baptism of Christ, is the first fresco these two associates ever did; and several yearselapsed between that and the best that are here, such as the grouprepresenting Charity and the figure of Faith, for the work was longinterrupted. The boys on the staircase in the fresco which showsS. John leaving his father's house are very much alive. This is byFranciabigio, as is also S. John meeting with Christ, a very charmingscene. Andrea's best and latest is the Birth of the Baptist, whichhas the fine figure of Zacharias writing in it. But what he shouldbe writing at that time and place one cannot imagine: more reasonablymight he be called a physician preparing a prescription. On the wallis a terra-cotta bust of S. Antonio, making him much younger thanis usual. Andrea's suave brush we find all over Florence, both in fresco andpicture, and this is an excellent place to say something of the manof whom English people have perhaps a more intimate impression thanof any other of the old masters, by reason largely of Browning'spoem and not a little by that beautiful portrait which for so longwas erroneously considered to represent the painter himself, in ourNational Gallery. Andrea's life was not very happy. No painter hadmore honour in his own day, and none had a greater number of pupils, but these stopped with him only a short time, owing to the demeanourtowards them of Andrea's wife, who developed into a flirt and shrew, dowered with a thousand jealousies. Andrea, the son of a tailor, wasborn in 1486 and apprenticed to a goldsmith. Showing, however, moredrawing than designing ability, he was transferred to a painter namedBarile and then passed to that curious man of genius who painted thefascinating picture "The Death of Procris" which hangs near Andrea'sportrait in our National Gallery--Piero di Cosimo. Piero carriedoddity to strange lengths. He lived alone in indescribable dirt, and lived wholly on hard-boiled eggs, which he cooked, with his glue, by the fifty, and ate as he felt inclined. He forbade all pruning oftrees as an act of insubordination to Nature, and delighted in rainbut cowered in terror from thunder and lightning. He peered curiouslyat clouds to find strange shapes in them, and in his pursuit of thegrotesque examined the spittle of sick persons on the walls or ground, hoping for suggestions of monsters, combats of horses, or fantasticlandscapes. But why this should have been thought madness in Cosimowhen Leonardo in his directions to artists explicitly advises themto look hard at spotty walls for inspiration, I cannot say. Hewas also the first, to my knowledge, to don ear-caps in tedioussociety--as Herbert Spencer later used to do. He had many pupils, but latterly could not bear them in his presence and was thereforebut an indifferent instructor. As a deviser of pageants he was more indemand than as a painter; but his brush was not idle. Both London andParis have, I think, better examples of his genius than the Uffizi;but he is well represented at S. Spirito. Piero sent Andrea to the Palazzo Vecchio to study the Leonardo andMichelangelo cartoons, and there he met Franciabigio, with whomhe struck up one of his close friendships, and together they took astudio and began to paint for a living. Their first work together wasthe Baptism of Christ at which we are now looking. The next commissionafter the Scalzo was to decorate the courtyard of the Convent of theServi, now known as the Church of the Annunciation; and moving intoadjacent lodgings, Andrea met Jacopo Sansovino, the Venetian sculptor, whose portrait by Bassano is in the Uffizi, a capable all-roundman who had studied in Rome and was in the way of helping the youngAndrea at all points. It was then too that he met the agreeable andconvivial Rustici, of whom I have said something in the chapter onthe Baptistery, and quickly became something of a blood--for by thistime, the second decade of the sixteenth century, the simplicity ofthe early artists had given place to dashing sophistication and thegreat period was nearly over. For this change the brilliant complexinquiring mind of Leonardo da Vinci was largely responsible, togetherwith the encouragement and example of Lorenzo de' Medici and such ofhis cultured sceptical friends as Alberti, Pico della Mirandola, andPoliziano. But that is a subject too large for this book. Enough thata worldly splendour and vivacity had come into artistic life and Andreawas an impressionable young man in the midst of it. It does not seem tohave affected the power and dexterity of his hand, but it made him areligious court-painter instead of a religious painter. His sweetnessand an underlying note of pathos give his work a peculiar and genuinecharacter; but he is just not of the greatest. Not so great reallyas Luca Signorelli, for example, whom few visitors to the galleriesrush at with gurgling cries of rapture as they rush at Andrea. When Andrea was twenty-six he married. The lady was the widow of ahatter. Andrea had long loved her, but the hatter clung outrageouslyto life. In 1513, however, she was free, and, giving her hand to thepainter, his freedom passed for ever. Vasari being among Andrea'spupils may be trusted here, and Vasari gives her a bad character, which Browning completes. Andrea painted her often, notably in thefresco of the "Nativity of the Virgin, " to which we shall soon comeat the Annunziata: a fine statuesque woman by no means unwilling tohave the most popular artist in Florence as her slave. Of the rest of Andrea's life I need say little. He grew steadily infavour and was always busy; he met Michelangelo and admired him, andMichelangelo warned Raphael in Rome of a little fellow in Florence whowould "make him sweat". Browning, in his monologue, makes this remarkof Michelangelo's, and the comparison between Andrea and Raphael thatfollows, the kernel of the poem. Like Leonardo and Rustici, Andrea accepted, in 1518, an invitation fromFrancis I to visit Paris and once there began to paint for that royalpatron. But although his wife did not love him, she wanted him back, and in the midst of his success he returned, taking with him a largesum of money from Francis with which to buy for the king works ofart in Italy. That money he misapplied to his own extravagant ends, and although Francis took no punitive steps, the event cannot haveimproved either Andrea's position or his peace of mind; while itcaused Francis to vow that he had done with Florentines. Andrea diedin 1531, of fever, nursed by no one, for his wife, fearing it mightbe the dreaded plague, kept away. CHAPTER XIX The SS. Annunziata and the Spedale degli Innocenti Andrea del Sarto again--Franciabigio outraged--AlessioBaldovinetti--Piero de' Medici's church--An Easter Sundaycongregation--Andrea's "Madonna del Sacco"--"The Statue andthe Bust"--Henri IV--The Spedale degli Innocenti--Andrea dellaRobbia--Domenico Ghirlandaio--Cosimo I and the Etruscans--Bronzes andtapestries--Perugino's triptych--S. Mary Magdalene de' Pazzi--"Verysacred human dust". From S. Marco it is an easy step, along the Via Sapienza, to thePiazza dell' Annunziata, where one finds the church of that name, the Palazzo Riccardi-Mannelli, and opposite it, gay with the famousdella Robbia reliefs of swaddled children, the Spedale degli Innocenti. First the church, which is notable for possessing in its courtyardAndrea del Sarto's finest frescoes. This series, of which he was thechief painter, with his friend Franciabigio again as his principalally, depict scenes in the life of the Virgin and S. Filippo. Thescene of the Birth of the Virgin has been called the triumph offresco painting, and certainly it is very gay and life-like inthat medium. The whole picture very charming and easy, with thepleasantest colouring imaginable and pretty details, such as thewashing of the baby and the boy warming his hands, while of the twowomen in the foreground, that on the left, facing the spectator, is a portrait of Andrea's wife, Lucrezia. In the Arrival of theMagi we find Andrea himself, the figure second from the right-handside, pointing; while next to him, on the left, is his friend JacopoSansovino. The "Dead Man Restored to Life by S. Filippo" is Andrea'snext best. Franciabigio did the scene of the Marriage of the Virgin, which contains another of his well-drawn boys on the steps. The injuryto this fresco--the disfigurement of Mary's face--was the work ofthe painter himself, in a rage that the monks should have inspectedit before it was ready. Vasari is interesting on this work. He drawsattention to it as illustrating "Joseph's great faith in taking her, his face expressing as much fear as joy". He also says that the blowwhich the man is giving Joseph was part of the marriage ceremony atthat time in Florence. Franciabigio, in spite of his action in the matter of this fresco, seems to have been a very sweet-natured man, who painted rather to beable to provide for his poor relations than from any stronger innerimpulse, and when he saw some works by Raphael gave up altogether, as Verrocchio gave up after Leonardo matured. Franciabigio was afew years older than Andrea, but died at the same age. Possibly itwas through watching his friend's domestic troubles that he remainedsingle, remarking that he who takes a wife endures strife. His mostcharming work is that "Madonna of the Well" in the Uffizi, whichis reproduced in this volume. Franciabigio's master was MariottoAlbertinelli, who had learned from Cosimo Rosselli, the teacherof Piero di Cosimo, Andrea's master--another illustration of theinterdependence of Florentine artists. One of the most attractive works in the courtyard must once havebeen the "Adoration of the Shepherds" by Alessio Baldovinetti, atthe left of the entrance to the church. It is badly damaged and thecolour has gone, but one can see that the valley landscape, when itwas painted, was a dream of gaiety and happiness. The particular treasure of the church is the extremely ornate chapelof the Virgin, containing a picture of the Virgin displayed once ayear on the Feast of the Annunciation, March 25th, in the paintingof which the Virgin herself took part, descending from heaven forthat purpose. The artist thus divinely assisted was Pietro Cavallini, a pupil of Giotto. The silver shrine for the picture was designed byMichelozzo and was a beautiful thing before the canopy and all thedistressing accessories were added. It was made at the order of Pierode' Medici, who was as fond of this church as his father Cosimo wasof S. Lorenzo. Michelozzo only designed it; the sculpture was doneby Pagno di Lapo Portigiani, whose Madonna is over the tomb of PopeJohn by Donatello and Michelozzo in the Baptistery. Among the altar-pieces are two by Perugino; but of Florentinealtar-pieces one can say little or nothing in a book of reasonabledimensions. There are so many and they are for the most part sodifficult to see. Now and then one arrests the eye and holds it;but for the most part they go unstudied. The rotunda of the choiris interesting, for here we meet again Alberti, who completed itfrom designs by Michelozzo. It does not seem to fit the church fromwithin, and even less so from without, but it is a fine structure. Theseventeenth-century painting of the dome is almost impressive. But one can forget and forgive all the church's gaudiness and floriditywhen the choir is in good voice and the strings play Palestrina asthey did last Easter Sunday. The Annunziata is famous for its music, and on the great occasions people crowd there as nowhere else. At HighMass the singing was fine but the instrumental music finer. One isaccustomed to seeing vicarious worship in Italy; but never was thereso vicarious a congregation as ours, and indeed if it had not beenfor the sight of the busy celibates at the altar one would not haveknown that one was worshipping at all. The culmination of detachmentcame when a family of Siamese or Burmese children, in native dress, entered. A positive hum went round, and not an eye but was fixedon the little Orientals. When, however, the organ was for a whilesuperseded and the violas and violins quivered under the plangentmelody of Palestrina, our roving attention was fixed and held. I am not sure that the Andrea in the cloisters is not the best ofall his work. It is very simple and wholly beautiful, and in spiteof years of ravage the colouring is still wonderful, perhaps indeedbetter for the hand of Time. It is called the "Madonna del Sacco"(grain sack), and fills the lunette over the door leading from thechurch. The Madonna--Andrea's favourite type, with the eyes set widelyin the flat brow over the little trustful nose--has her Son, older thanusual, sprawling on her knee. Her robes are ample and rich; a cloakof green is over her pretty head. By her sits S. Joseph, on the sack, reading with very long sight. That is all; but one does not forget it. For the rest the cloisters are a huddle of memorial slabs andindifferent frescoes. In the middle is a well with nice iron work. Nograss at all. The second cloisters, into which it is not easy to get, have a gaunt John the Baptist in terra-cotta by Michelozzo. On leaving the church, our natural destination is the Spedale, on theleft, but one should pause a moment in the doorway of the courtyard (ifthe beggars who are always there do not make it too difficult) to lookdown the Via de' Servi running straight away to the cathedral, which, with its great red warm dome, closes the street. The statue in themiddle of the piazza is that of the Grand Duke Ferdinand by Giovanni daBologna, cast from metal taken from the Italians' ancient enemies theTurks, while the fountains are by Tacca, Giovanni's pupil, who madethe bronze boar at the Mercato Nuovo. "The Synthetical Guide Book, "from which I have already quoted, warns its readers not to overlook"the puzzling bees" at the back of Ferdinand's statue. "Try to countthem, " it adds. (I accepted the challenge and found one hundred andone. ) The bees have reference to Ferdinand's emblem--a swarm of theseinsects, with the words "Majestate tantum". The statue, by the way, is interesting for two other reasons than its subject. First, it isthat to which Browning's poem, "The Statue and the Bust, " refers, andwhich, according to the poet, was set here at Ferdinand's command togaze adoringly for ever at the della Robbia bust of the lady whom heloved in vain. But the bust no longer is visible, if ever it was. Johnof Douay (as Gian Bologna was also called)-- John of Douay shall effect my plan, Set me on horseback here aloft, Alive, as the crafty sculptor can, In the very square I have crossed so oft:That men may admire, when future sunsShall touch the eyes to a purpose soft, While the mouth and the brow stay brave in bronze--Admire and say, "when he was aliveHow he would take his pleasure once!" The other point of interest is that when Maria de' Medici, Ferdinand'sniece, wished to erect a statue of Henri IV (her late husband) at thePont Neuf in Paris she asked to borrow Gian Bologna. But the sculptorwas too old to go and therefore only a bronze cast of this same horsewas offered. In the end Tacca completed both statues, and Henri IVwas set up in 1614 (after having fallen overboard on the voyage fromLeghorn to Havre). The present statue at the Pont Neuf is, however, a modern substitute. The façade of the Spedale degli Innocenti, or children's hospital, whenfirst seen by the visitor evokes perhaps the quickest and happiestcry of recognition in all Florence by reason of its row of dellaRobbia babies, each in its blue circle, reproductions of which havegone all over the world. These are thought to be by Andrea, Luca'snephew, and were added long after the building was completed. Lucaprobably helped him. The hospital was begun by Brunelleschi at thecost of old Giovanni de' Medici, Cosimo's father, but the Guild ofthe Silk Weavers, for whom Luca made the exquisite coat of arms on OrSan Michele, took it over and finished it. Andrea not only modelledthe babies outside but the beautiful Annunciation (of which I give areproduction in this volume) in the court: one of his best works. Thephotograph will show how full of pretty thoughts it is, but in colourit is more charming still and the green of the lily stalks is notthe least delightful circumstance. Not only among works of sculpturebut among Annunciations this relief holds a very high place. Few ofthe artists devised a scene in which the great news was brought moreengagingly, in sweeter surroundings, or received more simply. The door of the chapel close by leads to another work of art equallyadapted to its situation--Ghirlandaio's Adoration of the Magi: one ofthe perfect pictures for children. We have seen Ghirlandaio's Adorationof the Shepherds at the Accademia: this is its own brother. It hasthe sweetest, mildest little Mother, and in addition to the elderlyMagi two tiny little saintlings adore too. In the distance is anenchanted landscape about a fairy estuary. This hospital is a very busy one, and the authorities are glad to showit to visitors who really take an interest in such work. Rich Italianscarry on a fine rivalry in generosity to such institutions. Bologna, for instance, could probably give lessons in thoughtful charity tothe whole world. The building opposite the hospital has a loggia which is notablefor a series of four arches, like those of the Mercato Nuovo, and insummer for the flowers that hang down from the little balconies. Apretty building. Before turning to the right under the last of thearches of the hospital loggia, which opens on the Via della Colonnaand from the piazza always frames such a charming picture of housesand mountains, it is well, with so much of Andrea del Sarto's workwarm in one's memory, to take a few steps up the Via Gino Capponi(which also always frames an Apennine vista under its arch) to No. 24, and see Andrea's house, on the right, marked with a tablet. In the Via della Colonna we find, at No. 26 on the left, the PalazzoCrocetta, which is now a Museum of Antiquities, and for its Etruscanexhibits is of the greatest historical value and interest to visitorsto Tuscany, such as ourselves. For here you may see what civilizationwas like centuries before Christ and Rome. The beginnings of theEtruscan people are indistinct, but about 1000 B. C. Has been agreedto as the dawn of their era. Etruria comprised Tuscany, Perugia, and Rome itself. Florence has no remains, but Fiesole was a fortifiedEtruscan town, and many traces of its original builders may be seenthere, together with Etruscan relics in the little museum. For thebest reconstructions of an Etruscan city one must go to Volterra, where so many of the treasures in the present building were found. The Etruscans in their heyday were the most powerful people inthe world, but after the fifth century their supremacy graduallydisappeared, the Gauls on the one side and the Romans on the otherwearing them down. All our knowledge of them comes through thespade. Excavations at Volterra and elsewhere have revealed somethousands of inscriptions which have been in part deciphered; butnothing has thrown so much light on this accomplished people as theirhabit of providing the ashes of their dead with everything likelyto be needed for the next world, whose requirements fortunately soexactly tallied with those of this that a complete system of domesticcivilization can be deduced. In arts and sciences they were mostenviably advanced, as a visit to the British Museum will show ina moment. But it is to this Florentine Museum of Antiquities thatall students of Etruria must go. The garden contains a number of thetombs themselves, rebuilt and refurnished exactly as they were found;while on the ground floor is the amazing collection of articles whichthe tombs yielded. The grave has preserved them for us, not quiteso perfectly as the volcanic dust of Vesuvius preserved the domesticappliances of Pompeii, but very nearly so. Jewels, vessels, weapons, ornaments--many of them of a beauty never since reproduced--are tobe seen in profusion, now gathered together for study only a shortdistance from the districts in which centuries ago they were madeand used for actual life. Upstairs we find relics of an older civilization still, the Egyptian, and a few rooms of works of art, all found in Etruscan soil, the property of the Pierpont Morgans and George Saltings of thatancient day, who had collected them exactly as we do now. Certainof the statues are world-famous. Here, for example, in Sala IX, isthe bronze Minerva which was found near Arezzo in 1554 by Cosimo'sworkmen. Here is the Chimæra, also from Arezzo in 1554, which Cellinirestored for Cosimo and tells us about in his Autobiography. Here isthe superb Orator from Lake Trasimene, another of Cosimo's discoveries. In Sala X look at the bronze situla in an isolated glass case, of sucha peacock blue as only centuries could give it. Upstairs in Sala XVIare many more Greek and Roman bronzes, among which I noticed a faunwith two pipes as being especially good; while the little room leadingfrom it has some fine life-size heads, including a noble one of ahorse, and the famous Idolino on its elaborate pedestal--a full-lengthGreek bronze from the earth of Pesaro, where it was found in 1530. The top floor is given to tapestries and embroideries. The collectionis vast and comprises much foreign work; but Cosimo I introducingtapestry weaving into Florence, many of the examples come from thecity's looms. The finest, or at any rate most interesting, seriesis that depicting the court of France under Catherine de' Medici, with portraits: very sumptuous and gay examples of Flemish work. The trouble at Florence is that one wants the days to be ten times aslong in order that one may see its wonderful possessions properly. Hereis this dry-looking archaeological museum, with antipathetic custodiansat the door who refuse to get change for twenty-lira pieces: nothingcould be more unpromising than they or their building; and yet youfind yourself instantly among countless vestiges of a past people whohad risen to power and crumbled again before Christ was born--but ata time when man was so vastly more sensitive to beauty than he now isthat every appliance for daily life was the work of an artist. Well, a collection like this demands days and days of patient examination, and one has only a few hours. Were I Joshua--had I his curious gift--itis to Florence I would straightway fare. The sun should stand stillthere: no rock more motionless. Continuing along the Via della Colonna, we come, on the right, at No. 8, to the convent of S. Maria Maddalena de' Pazzi, which isnow a barracks but keeps sacred one room in which Perugino painted acrucifixion, his masterpiece in fresco. The work is in three panels, of which that on the left, representing the Virgin and S. Bernard, is the most beautiful. Indeed, there is no more beautiful lightin any picture we shall see, and the Virgin's melancholy face isinexpressibly sweet. Perugino is best represented at the Accademia, and there are works of his at the Uffizi and Pitti and in variousFlorentine churches; but here he is at his best. Vasari tells us thathe made much money and was very fond of it; also that he liked hisyoung wife to wear light head-dresses both out of doors and in thehouse, and often dressed her himself. His master was Verrocchio andhis best pupil Raphael. S. Mary Magdalene de' Pazzi, a member of the same family that plottedagainst the Medici and owned the sacred flints, was born in 1566, and, says Miss Dunbar, [8] "showed extraordinary piety from a very tenderage". When only a child herself she used to teach small children, andshe daily carried lunch to the prisoners. Her real name was Catherine, but becoming a nun she called herself Mary Magdalene. In an illness inwhich she was given up for dead, she lay on her bed for forty days, during which she saw continual visions, and then recovered. LikeS. Catherine of Bologna she embroidered well and painted miraculously, and she once healed a leprosy by licking it. She died in 1607. The old English Cemetery, as it is usually called--the ProtestantCemetery, as it should be called--is an oval garden of death in thePiazza Donatello, at the end of the Via di Pinti and the Via Alfieri, rising up from the boulevard that surrounds the northern half ofFlorence. (The new Protestant Cemetery is outside the city on theroad to the Certosa. ) I noticed, as I walked beneath the cypresses, the grave of Arthur Hugh Clough, the poet of "Dipsychus, " who diedhere in Florence on November 13th, 1861; of Walter Savage Landor, that old lion (born January 30th, 1775; died September 17th, 1864), of whom I shall say much more in a later chapter; of his son Arnold, who was born in 1818 and died in 1871; and of Mrs. Holman Hunt, whodied in 1866. But the most famous grave is that of Elizabeth BarrettBrowning, who lies beneath a massive tomb that bears only the initialsE. B. B. And the date 1861. "Italy, " wrote James Thomson, the poet of"The City of Dreadful Night, " on hearing of Mrs. Browning's death, "Italy, you hold in trustVery sacred human dust. " CHAPTER XX The Cascine and the Arno Florence's Bois de Boulogne--Shelley--The races--The game ofPallone--SS. Ognissanti--Botticelli and Ghirlandaio--AmerigoVespucci--The Platonic Academy's garden--Alberti's PalazzoRucellai--Melancholy decay--Two smiling boys--The Corsinipalace--The Trinità bridge--The Borgo San Jacopo from the back--Homefishing--SS. Apostoli--A sensitive river--The Ponte Vecchio--Thegoldsmiths--S. Stefano. The Cascine is the "Bois" of Florence; but it does not compare withthe Parisian expanse either in size or attraction. Here the wealthyFlorentines drive, the middle classes saunter and ride bicycles, thepoor enjoy picnics, and the English take country walks. The furtherone goes the better it is, and the better also the river, which atthe very end of the woods becomes such a stream as the pleinairisteslove, with pollarded trees on either side. Among the trees of one ofthese woods nearly a hundred years ago, a walking Englishman namedPercy Bysshe Shelley wrote his "Ode to the West Wind". The Cascine is a Bois also in having a race-course in it--a smallcourse with everything about it on a little scale, grandstand, bettingboxes, and all. And why not?--for after all Florence is quite small insize, however remarkable in character. Here funny little race-meetingsare held, beginning on Easter Monday and continuing at intervals untilthe weather gets too hot. The Florentines pour out in their hundredsand lie about in the long grass among the wild flowers, and in theirfives and tens back their fancies. The system is the pari-mutuel, and here one seems to be more at its mercy even than in France. Theodds keep distressingly low; but no one seems to be either elated ordepressed, whatever happens. To be at the races is the thing--to walkabout and watch the people and enjoy the air. It is the most orderlyfrugal scene, and the baleful and mysterious power of the racehorseto poison life and landscape, as in England, does not exist here. To the Cascine also in the spring and autumn several hundred Florentinemen come every afternoon to see the game of pallone and risk a few lireon their favourite players. Mr. Ruskin, whose "Mornings in Florence"is still the textbook of the devout, is severe enough upon thosevisitors who even find it in their hearts to shop and gossip in thecity of Giotto. What then would he have said of one who has spent nota few afternoon hours, between five and six, in watching the game ofpallone? I would not call pallone a good game. Compared with tennis, it is nothing; compared with lawn tennis, it is poor; compared withfootball, it is anaemic; yet in an Italian city, after the gallerieshave closed, on a warm afternoon, it will do, and it will more thando as affording an opportunity of seeing muscular Italian athletes inthe pink of condition. The game is played by six, three each side:a battitore, who smites the ball, which is served to him very muchas in rounders; the spalla, who plays back; and the terzino, whoplays forward. The court is sixty or more yards long, on one sidebeing a very high wall and on the other and at each end netting. Theimplements are the ball, which is hollow and of leather, about halfthe size of a football, and a cylinder studded with spikes, ratherlike a huge fir-cone or pine-apple, which is placed over the wristand forearm to hit the ball with; and the game is much as in tennis, only there is no central net: merely a line. Each man's ambition, however, is less to defeat the returning power of the foe than toparalyse it by hitting the ball out of reach. It is as though abatsman were out if he failed to hit three wides. A good battitore, for instance, can smite the ball right down thesixty yards into the net, above the head of the opposing spalla whostands awaiting it at the far end. Such a stroke is to the Englishmind a blot, and it is no uncommon thing, after each side has had agood rally, to see the battitore put every ball into the net in thisway and so win the game without his opponents having one return;which is the very negation of sport. Each innings lasts until oneside has gained eight points, the points going to whichever playermakes the successful stroke. This means that the betting--and ofcourse there is betting--is upon individuals and not upon sides. The pari-mutuel system is that which is adopted at both the pallonecourts in Florence (there is another at the Piazza Beccaria), and theunit is two lire. Bets are invited on the winner and the second, andplace-money is paid on both. No wonder then that as the game draws to aclose the excitement becomes intense; while during its progress feelingruns high too. For how can a young Florentine who has his money on, say, Gabri the battitore, withhold criticism when Gabri's arm failsand the ball drops comfortably for the terzino Ugo to smash it intoGabri's net? Such a lapse should not pass unnoticed; nor does it. From the Cascine we may either return to Florence along the banksof the river, or cross the river by the vile iron Ponte Sospesoand enter the city again, on the Pitti side, by the imposing PortaS. Frediano. Supposing that we return by the Lungarno Amerigo Vespuccithere is little to notice, beyond costly modern houses of a PortlandPlace type and the inevitable Garibaldi statue, until, just past theoblique pescaja (or weir), we see across the Piazza Manin the churchof All Saints--S. Salvadore d'Ognissanti, which must be visited sinceit is the burial-place of Botticelli and Amerigo Vespucci, the chapelof the Vespucci family being painted by Ghirlandaio; and since here toolies Botticelli's beautiful Simonetta, who so untimely died. Accordingto Vasari the frescoes of S. Jerome by Ghirlandaio and S. Augustine byBotticelli were done in competition. They were painted, as it happens, elsewhere, but moved here without injury. I think the S. Jerome is themore satisfying, a benevolent old scientific author--a Lord Aveburyof the canon--with his implements about him on a tapestry tablecloth, a brass candlestick, his cardinal's hat, and a pair of tortoise-shelleyeglasses handy. S. Augustine is also scientific; astronomical booksand instruments surround him too. His tablecloth is linen. Amerigo Vespucci, whose statue we saw in the Uffizi porticocolonnade, was a Florentine by birth who settled in Spain and took toexploration. His discoveries were important, but America is not reallyamong them, for Columbus, whom he knew and supported financially, got there first. By a mistake in the date in his account of histravels, Vespucci's name came to be given to the new continent, andit was then too late to alter it. He became a naturalized Spaniardand died in 1512. Columbus indeed suffers in Florence; for had itnot been for Vespucci, America would no doubt be called Columbia;while Brunelleschi anticipated him in the egg trick. The church is very proud of possessing the robe of S. Francis, whichis displayed once a year on October 4th. In the refectory is a "LastSupper" by Ghirlandaio, not quite so good as that which we saw atS. Marco, but very similar, and, like that, deriving from Castagno'sat the Cenacolo di Sant' Apollonia. The predestined Judas is oncemore on the wrong side of the table. Returning to the river bank again, we are at once among the hotels andpensions, which continue cheek by jowl right away to the Ponte Vecchioand beyond. In the Piazza Goldoni, where the Ponte Carraia springs off, several streets meet, best of them and busiest of them being that Viadella Vigna Nuova which one should miss few opportunities of walkingalong, for here is the palazzo--at No. 20--which Leon Battista Albertidesigned for the Rucellai. The Rucellai family's present palace, Imay say here, is in the Via della Scala, and by good fortune I foundat the door sunning himself a complacent major-domo who, the housebeing empty of its august owners, allowed me to walk through intothe famous garden--the Orti Oricellari--where the Platonic Academymet for a while in Bernardo Rucellai's day. A monument inscribedwith their names has been erected among the evergreens. Afterwardsthe garden was given by Francis I to his beloved Bianca Capella. Itsnatural beauties are impaired by a gigantic statue of Polyphemus, bigger than any other statue in Florence. The new Rucellai palace does not compare with the old, which is, Ithink, the most beautiful of all the private houses of the great day, and is more easily seen too, for there is a little piazza in frontof it. The palace, with its lovely design and its pilastered windows, is now a rookery, while various industries thrive beneath it. Part ofthe right side has been knocked away; but even still the proportionsare noble. This is a bad quarter for vandalism; for in the piazzaopposite is a most exquisite little loggia, built in 1468, the threelovely arches of which have been filled in and now form the windows ofan English establishment known as "The Artistic White House". An absurdname, for if it were really artistic it would open up the arches again. The Rucellai chapel, behind the palace, is in the Via della Spada, and the key must be asked for in the palace stables. It is in ashocking state, and quite in keeping with the traditions of theneighbourhood, while the old church of S. Pancrazio, its neighbour, is now a Government tobacco factory. The Rucellai chapel contains amodel of the Holy Sepulchre, at Jerusalem, in marble and intarsia, by the great Alberti--one of the most jewel-like little buildingsimaginable. Within it are the faint vestiges of a fresco which thestable-boy calls a Botticelli, and indeed the hands and faces ofthe angels, such as one can see of them with a farthing dip, do notrender the suggestion impossible. On the altar is a terra-cotta Christwhich he calls a Donatello, and again he may be right; but fury at acondition of things that can permit such a beautiful place to be sodesecrated renders it impossible to be properly appreciative. Since we are here, instead of returning direct to the river let usgo a few yards along this Via della Spada to the left, cross theVia de' Fossi, and so come to the busy Via di Pallazzuolo, on theleft of which, past the piazza of S. Paolino, is the little church ofS. Francesco de' Vanchetoni. This church is usually locked, but the keyis next door, on the right, and it has to be obtained because over theright sacristy door is a boy's head by Rossellino, and over the left aboy's head by Desiderio da Settignano, and each is joyful and perfect. The Via de' Fossi will bring us again to the Piazza Goldoni and theArno, and a few yards farther along there is a palace to be seen, the Corsini, the only palazzo still inhabited by its family to whichstrangers are admitted--the long low white façade with statues onthe top and a large courtyard, on the Lungarno Corsini, just afterthe Piazza Goldoni. It is not very interesting and belongs to thewrong period, the seventeenth century. It is open on fixed days, and free save that one manservant receives the visitor and anotherconducts him from room to room. There are many pictures, but fewof outstanding merit, and the authorship of some of these has beenchallenged. Thus, the cartoon of Julius II, which is called a Raphaeland seems to be the sketch for one of the well-known portraits at thePitti, Uffizi, or our National Gallery, is held to be not by Raphaelat all. Among the pleasantest pictures are a Lippo Lippi Madonna andChild, a Filippino Lippi Madonna and Child with Angels, and a similargroup by Botticelli; but one has a feeling that Carlo Dolci and GuidoReni are the true heroes of the house. Guido Reni's Lucrezia Romana, with a dagger which she has already thrust two inches into her bosom, as though it were cheese, is one of the most foolish pictures I eversaw. The Corsini family having given the world a pope, a case of papalvestments is here. It was this Pope when Cardinal Corsini who said toDr. Johnson's friend, Mrs. Piozzi, meeting him in Florence in 1785, "Well, Madam, you never saw one of us red-legged partridges before, I believe". There may be more beautiful bridges in the world than the Trinità, but I have seen none. Its curve is so gentle and soft, and its threearches so light and graceful, that I wonder that whenever new bridgesare necessary the authorities do not insist upon the Trinità beingcopied. The Ponte Vecchio, of course, has a separate interest of itsown, and stands apart, like the Rialto. It is a bridge by chance, onemight almost say. But the Trinità is a bridge in intent and supreme atthat, the most perfect union of two river banks imaginable. It showsto what depths modern Florence can fall--how little she esteems herpast--that the iron bridge by the Cascine should ever have been built. The various yellows of Florence--the prevailing colours--are spreadout nowhere so favourably as on the Pitti side of the river betweenthe Trinità and the Ponte Vecchio on the backs of the houses of theBorgo San Jacopo, and just so must this row have looked for fourhundred years. Certain of the occupants of these tenements, even onthe upper floors, have fishing nets, on pulleys, which they let downat intervals during the day for the minute fish which seem to be asprecious to Italian fishermen as sparrows and wrens to Italian gunners. The great palace at the Trinità end of this stretch of yellowbuildings--the Frescobaldi--must have been very striking when theloggia was open: the three rows of double arches that are now walledin. From this point, as well as from similar points on the otherside of the Ponte Vecchio, one realizes the mischief done by CosimoI's secret passage across it; for not only does the passage impose astraight line on a bridge that was never intended to have one, but itcuts Florence in two. If it were not for its large central arches onewould, from the other bridges or the embankment, see nothing whateverof the further side of the city; but as it is, through these archesone has heavenly vignettes. We leave the river again for a few minutes about fifty yards alongthe Lungarno Acciaioli beyond the Trinità and turn up a narrow passageto see the little church of SS. Apostoli, where there is a delightfulgay ciborium, all bright colours and happiness, attributed to Andreadella Robbia, with pretty cherubs and pretty angels, and a benignantChrist and flowers and fruit which cannot but chase away gloom anddubiety. Here also is a fine tomb by the sculptor of the elaboratechimney-piece which we saw in the Bargello, Benedetto da Rovezzano, who also designed the church's very beautiful door. Whether ornot it is true that SS. Apostoli was built by Charlemagne, it iscertainly very old and architecturally of great interest. Vasari saysthat Brunelleschi acquired from it his inspiration for S. Lorenzoand S. Spirito. To many Florentines its principal importance is itscustody of the Pazzi flints for the igniting of the sacred fire whichin turn ignites the famous Carro. Returning again to the embankment, we are quickly at the PonteVecchio, where it is pleasant at all times to loiter and observeboth the river and the people; while from its central arches onesees the mountains. From no point are the hill of S. Miniato andits stately cypresses more beautiful; but one cannot see the churchitself--only the church of S. Niccolò below it, and of course thebronze "David". In dry weather the Arno is green; in rainy weatheryellow. It is so sensitive that one can almost see it respond to themost distant shower; but directly the rain falls and it is fed bya thousand Apennine torrents it foams past this bridge in fury. ThePonte Vecchio was the work, upon a Roman foundation, of Taddeo Gaddi, Giotto's godson, in the middle of the fourteenth century, but theshops are, of course, more recent. The passage between the Pittiand Uffizi was added in 1564. Gaddi, who was a fresco painter firstand architect afterwards, was employed because Giotto was absent inMilan, Giotto being the first thought of every one in difficultiesat that time. The need, however, was pressing, for a flood in 1333had destroyed a large part of the Roman bridge. Gaddi builded so wellthat when, two hundred and more years later, another flood severelydamaged three other bridges, the Ponte Vecchio was unharmed. Nonethe less it is not Gaddi's bust but Cellini's that has the post ofhonour in the centre; but this is, of course, because Cellini wasa goldsmith, and it is to goldsmiths that the shops belong. Once itwas the butchers' quarter! I never cross the Ponte Vecchio and see these artificers in theirblouses through the windows, without wondering if in any of their boyassistants is the Michelangelo, or Orcagna, or Ghirlandaio, or evenCellini, of the future, since all of those, and countless others ofthe Renaissance masters, began in precisely this way. The odd thing is that one is on the Ponte Vecchio, from eitherend, before one knows it to be a bridge at all. A street of suddensteepness is what it seems to be. Not the least charming thing uponit is the masses of groundsel which have established themselves onthe pent roof over the goldsmiths' shops. Every visitor to Florencemust have longed to occupy one of these little bridge houses; but Iam not aware that any has done so. One of the oldest streets in Florence must be the Via Girolami, fromthe Ponte Vecchio to the Uffizi, under an arch. A turning to the leftbrings one to the Piazza S. Stefano, where the barn-like church ofS. Stefano is entered; and close by is the Torre de' Girolami, whereS. Zenobius lived. S. Stefano, although it is now so easily overlooked, was of importance in its day, and it was here that Niccolò da Uzzano, the leader of the nobles, held a meeting to devise means of checkingthe growing power of the people early in the fifteenth century and wasthwarted by old Giovanni de' Medici. From that thwarting proceededthe power of the Medici family and the gloriously endowed Florencethat we travel to see. CHAPTER XXI S. Maria Novella The great churches of Florence--A Dominican cathedral--The "Decameron"begins--Domenico Ghirlandaio--Alessio Baldovinetti--The Louvre--TheS. Maria Novella frescoes--Giovanni and Lorenzo Tornabuoni--Ruskinimplacable--Cimabue's Madonna--Filippino Lippi--Orcagna's "LastJudgment"--The Cloisters of Florence--The Spanish Chapel--S. Dominictriumphant--Giotto at his sweetest--The "Wanderer's" doom--The Piazza, as an arena. S. Maria Novella is usually bracketed with S. Croce as the mostinteresting Florentine church after the Duomo, but S. Lorenzo has ofcourse to be reckoned with very seriously. I think that for interestI should place S. Maria Novella fifth, including also the Baptisterybefore it, but architecturally second. Its interior is second inbeauty only to S. Croce. S. Croce is its immediate religious rival, for it was because the Dominicans had S. Maria Novella, begun in1278, that several years later the Franciscans determined to have anequally important church and built S. Croce. The S. Maria Novellaarchitects were brothers of the order, but Talenti, whom we saw atwork both on Giotto's tower and on San Michele, built the campanile, and Leon Battista Alberti the marble façade, many years later. Therichest patrons of S. Maria Novella--corresponding to the Medici atS. Lorenzo and the Bardi at S. Croce--were the Rucellai, whose palace, designed also by the wonderful versatile Alberti, we have seen. The interior of S. Maria Novella is very fine and spacious, andit gathers and preserves an exquisite light at all times of theday. Nowhere in Florence is there a finer aisle, with the roofspringing so nobly and masterfully from the eight columns on eitherside. The whole effect, like that of S. Croce, is rather northern, the result of the yellow and brown hues; but whereas S. Croce has acrushing flat roof, this one is all soaring gladness. The finest view of the interior is from the altar steps looking backto the beautiful circular window over the entrance, a mass of happycolour. In the afternoon the little plain circular windows high upin the aisle shoot shafts of golden light upon the yellow walls. Thehigh altar of inlaid marble is, I think, too bright and too large. Thechurch is more impressive on Good Friday, when over this altar is builta Calvary with the crucifix on the summit and life-size mourners at itsfoot; while a choir and string orchestra make superbly mournful music. I like to think that it was within the older S. Maria Novella thatthose seven mirthful young ladies of Florence remained one morningin 1348, after Mass, to discuss plans of escape from the city duringthe plague. As here they chatted and plotted, there entered the churchthree young men; and what simpler than to engage them as companions intheir retreat, especially as all three, like all seven of the youngwomen, were accomplished tellers of stories with no fear whatever ofMrs. Grundy? And thus the "Decameron" of Giovanni Boccaccio came about. S. Maria Novella also resembles S. Croce in its moving groups ofsight-seers each in the hands of a guide. These one sees always andhears always: so much so that a reminder has been printed and set uphere and there in this church, to the effect that it is primarily thehouse of God and for worshippers. But S. Maria Novella has not a titheof S. Croce's treasures. Having almost no tombs of first importance, it has to rely upon its interior beauty and upon its frescoes, andits chief glory, whatever Mr. Ruskin, who hated them, might say, is, for most people, Ghirlandaio's series of scenes in the life of theVirgin and S. John the Baptist. These cover the walls of the choirand for more than four centuries have given delight to Florentinesand foreigners. Such was the thoroughness of their painter in hiscolour mixing (in which the boy Michelangelo assisted him) that, although they have sadly dimmed and require the best morning light, they should endure for centuries longer, a reminder not only ofthe thoughtful sincere interesting art of Ghirlandaio and of thepious generosity of the Tornabuoni family, who gave them, but alsoof the costumes and carriage of the Florentine ladies at the endof the fifteenth century when Lorenzo the Magnificent was in hiszenith. Domenico Ghirlandaio may not be quite of the highest rankamong the makers of Florence; but he comes very near it, and indeed, by reason of being Michelangelo's first instructor, perhaps shouldstand amid them. But one thing is certain--that without him Florencewould be the poorer by many beautiful works. He was born in 1449, twenty-one years after the death of Masaccio andthree before Leonardo, twenty-six before Michelangelo, and thirty-fourbefore Raphael. His full name was Domenico or Tommaso di Currado diDoffo Bigordi, but his father Tommaso Bigordi, a goldsmith, havinghit upon a peculiarly attractive way of making garlands for the hair, was known as Ghirlandaio, the garland maker; and time has effacedthe Bigordi completely. The portraits of both Tommaso and Domenico, side by side, occur in thefresco representing Joachim driven from the Temple: Domenico, who is tobe seen second from the extreme right, a little resembles our CharlesII. Like his father, and, as we have seen, like most of the artists ofFlorence, he too became a goldsmith, and his love of the jewels thatgoldsmiths made may be traced in his pictures; but at an early age hewas sent to Alessio Baldovinetti to learn to be a painter. Alessio'swork we find all over Florence: a Last Judgment in the Accademia, forexample, but that is not a very pleasing thing; a Madonna Enthroned, in the Uffizi; the S. Miniato frescoes; the S. Trinità frescoes;and that extremely charming although faded work in the outer court ofSS. Annunziata. For the most delightful picture from his hand, however, one has to go to the Louvre, where there is a Madonna and Child (1300a), in the early Tuscan room, which has a charm not excelled by anysuch group that I know. The photographers still call it a Piero dellaFrancesca, and the Louvre authorities omit to name it at all; but itis Alessio beyond question. Next it hangs the best Ghirlandaio thatI know--the very beautiful Visitation, and, to add to the interestof this room to the returning Florentine wanderer, on the same wallare two far more attractive works by Bastiano Mainardi (Ghirlandaio'sbrother-in-law and assistant at S. Maria Novella) than any in Florence. Alessio, who was born in 1427, was an open-handed ingenious man whocould not only paint and do mosaic but once made a wonderful clock forLorenzo. His experiments with colour were disastrous: hence most of hisfrescoes have perished; but possibly it was through Alessio's mistakesthat Ghirlandaio acquired the use of such a lasting medium. Alessiowas an independent man who painted from taste and not necessity. Ghirlandaio's chief influences, however, were Masaccio, at the Carmine, Fra Lippo Lippi, and Verrocchio, who is thought also to have beenBaldovinetti's pupil and whose Baptism of Christ, in the Accademia, painted when Ghirlandaio was seventeen, must have given Ghirlandaiothe lines for his own treatment of the incident in this church. Onehas also only to compare Verrocchio's sculptured Madonnas in theBargello with many of Ghirlandaio's to see the influence again;both were attracted by a similar type of sweet, easy-natured girl. When he was twenty-six Ghirlandaio went to Rome to paint the Sixtinelibrary, and then to San Gimignano, where he was assisted by Mainardi, who was to remain his most valuable ally in executing the largecommissions which were to come to his workshop. His earliest Florentinefrescoes are those which we shall see at Ognissanti; the Madonna dellaMisericordia and the Deposition painted for the Vespucci family andonly recently discovered, together with the S. Jerome, in the church, and the Last Supper, in the refectory. By this time Ghirlandaio andBotticelli were in some sort of rivalry, although, so far as I know, friendly enough, and both went to Rome in 1481, together with Perugino, Piero di Cosimo, Cosimo Rosselli, Luca Signorelli and others, atthe command of Pope Sixtus IV to decorate the Sixtine chapel, theexcommunication of all Florentines which the Pope had decreed afterthe failure of the Pazzi Conspiracy to destroy the Medici (as we sawin chapter II) having been removed in order to get these excellentworkmen to the Holy City. Painting very rapidly the little band hadfinished their work in six months, and Ghirlandaio was at home againwith such an ambition and industry in him that he once expressed thewish that every inch of the walls of Florence might be covered byhis brush--and in those days Florence had walls all round it, withtwenty-odd towers in addition to the gates. His next great frescoeswere those in the Palazzo Vecchio and S. Trinita. It was in 1485that he painted his delightful Adoration, at the Accademia, and in1486 he began his great series at S. Maria Novella, finishing themin 1490, his assistants being his brother David, Benedetto Mainardi, who married Ghirlandaio's sister, and certain apprentices, among themthe youthful Michelangelo, who came to the studio in 1488. The story of the frescoes is this. Ghirlandaio when in Rome hadmet Giovanni Tornabuoni, a wealthy merchant whose wife had diedin childbirth. Her death we have already seen treated in relief byVerrocchio in the Bargello. Ghirlandaio was first asked to beautifyin her honour the Minerva at Rome, where she was buried, and thishe did. Later when Giovanni Tornabuoni wished to present S. MariaNovella with a handsome benefaction, he induced the Ricci family, who owned this chapel, to allow him to re-decorate it, and engagedGhirlandaio for the task. This meant first covering the fast fadingfrescoes by Orcagna, which were already there, and then painting overthem. What the Orcagnas were like we cannot know; but the substitute, although probably it had less of curious genius in it was undoubtedlymore attractive to the ordinary observer. The right wall, as one faces the window (whose richness of colouredglass, although so fine in the church as a whole, is here such aprivation), is occupied by scenes in the story of the Baptist; theleft by the life of the Virgin. The left of the lowest pair on theright wall represents S. Mary and S. Elizabeth, and in it a party ofGhirlandaio's stately Florentine ladies watch the greeting of the twosaints outside Florence itself, symbolized rather than portrayed, very near the church in which we stand. The girl in yellow, on theright of the picture, with her handkerchief in her hand and wearing arich dress, is Giovanna degli Albizzi, who married Lorenzo Tornabuoniat the Villa Lemmi near Florence, that villa from which Botticelli'sexquisite fresco, now in the Louvre at the top of the main staircase, in which she again is to be seen, was taken. Her life was a sadone, for her husband was one of those who conspired with Piero diLorenzo de' Medici for his return some ten years later, and wasbeheaded. S. Elizabeth is of course the older woman. The companionto this picture represents the angel appearing to S. Zacharias, andhere again Ghirlandaio gives us contemporary Florentines, portraitsof distinguished Tornabuoni men and certain friends of eminenceamong them. In the little group low down on the left, for example, are Poliziano and Marsilio Ficino, the Platonist. Above--but seeingis beginning to be difficult--the pair of frescoes represent, on theright, the birth of the Baptist, and on the left, his naming. The birthscene has much beauty, and is as well composed as any, and there isa girl in it of superb grace and nobility; but the birth scene of theVirgin, on the opposite wall, is perhaps the finer and certainly moreeasily seen. In the naming of the child we find Medici portraits oncemore, that family being related to the Tornabuoni; and Mr. Davies, in his book on Ghirlandaio, offers the interesting suggestion, whichhe supports very reasonably, that the painter has made the incidentrefer to the naming of Lorenzo de' Medici's third son, Giovanni (orJohn), who afterwards became Pope Leo X. In that case the man on theleft, in green, with his hand on his hip, would be Lorenzo himself, whom he certainly resembles. Who the sponsor is is not known. Thelandscape and architecture are alike charming. Above these we faintly see that strange Baptism of Christ, so curiouslylike the Verrocchio in the Accademia, and the Baptist preaching. The left wall is perhaps the favourite. We begin with Joachim beingdriven from the Temple, one of the lowest pair; and this has a peculiarinterest in giving us a portrait of the painter and his associates--thefigure on the extreme right being Benedetto Mainardi; then DomenicoGhirlandaio; then his father; and lastly his brother David. On theopposite side of the picture is the fated Lorenzo Tornabuoni, of whomI have spoken above, the figure farthest from the edge, with his handon his hip. The companion picture is the most popular of all--theBirth of the Virgin--certainly one of the most charming interiors inFlorence. Here again we have portraits--no doubt Tornabuoni ladies--andmuch pleasant fancy on the part of the painter, who made everything asbeautiful as he could, totally unmindful of the probabilities. Ruskinis angry with him for neglecting to show the splashing of the waterin the vessel, but it would be quite possible for no splashing tobe visible, especially if the pouring had only just begun; but forRuskin's strictures you must go to "Mornings in Florence, " where poorGhirlandaio gets a lash for every virtue of Giotto. Next--above, onthe left--we have the Presentation of the Virgin and on the righther Marriage. The Presentation is considered by Mr. Davies to bealmost wholly the work of Ghirlandaio's assistants, while the youthfulMichelangelo himself has been credited with the half-naked figure onthe steps, although Mr. Davies gives it to Mainardi. Mainardi againis probably the author of the companion scene. The remaining frescoesare of less interest and much damaged; but in the window wall oneshould notice the portraits of Giovanni Tornabuoni and Francesca diLuca Pitti, his wife, kneeling, because this Giovanni was the donorof the frescoes, and his sister Lucrezia was the wife of Piero de'Medici and therefore the mother of Lorenzo the Magnificent, whileFrancesca Tornabuoni, the poor lady who died in childbirth, was thedaughter of that proud Florentine who began the Pitti palace butended his life in disgrace. And so we leave this beautiful recess, where pure religious feelingmay perhaps be wanting but where the best spirit of the Renaissanceis to be found: everything making for harmony and pleasure; and onreturning to London the visitor should make a point of seeing theFlorentine girl by the same hand in our National Gallery, No. 1230, for she is very typical of his genius. On the entrance wall of the church is what must once have been a fineMasaccio--"The Trinity"--but it is in very bad condition; while inthe Cappella Rucellai in the right transept is what purports to bea Cimabue, very like the one in the Accademia, but with a rathermore matured Child in it. Vasari tells us that on its completionthis picture was carried in stately procession from the painter'sstudio to the church, in great rejoicing and blowing of trumpets, the populace being moved not only by religious ecstasy but by pride inan artist who could make such a beautiful and spacious painting, thelargest then known. Vasari adds that when Cimabue was at work upon it, Charles of Anjou, visiting Florence, was taken to his studio, to seethe wonderful painter, and a number of Florentines entering too, theybroke out into such rejoicings that the locality was known ever afteras Borgo Allegro, or Joyful Quarter. This would be about 1290. Therewas a certain fitness in Cimabue painting this Madonna, for it is saidthat he had his education in the convent which stood here before thepresent church was begun. But I should add that of Cimabue we knowpractically nothing, and that most of Vasari's statements have beenconfuted, while the painter of the S. Maria Novella Madonna is heldby some authorities to be Duccio of Siena. So where are we? The little chapel next the choir on the right is that of FilippoStrozzi the elder who was one of the witnesses of the Pazzi outrage inthe Duomo in 1478. This was the Filippo Strozzi who began the Strozzipalace in 1489, father of the Filippo Strozzi who married Lorenzode' Medici's noble grand-daughter Clarice and came to a tragic endunder Cosimo I. Old Filippo's tomb here was designed by Benedetto daMaiano, who made the famous Franciscan pulpit in S. Croce, and wasGhirlandaio's friend and the Strozzi palace's first architect. Thebeautiful circular relief of the Virgin and Child, with a border ofroses and flying worshipping angels all about it, behind the altar, isBenedetto's too, and very lovely and human are both Mother and Child. The frescoes in this chapel, by Filippino Lippi, are interesting, particularly that one on the left, depicting the Resuscitation ofDrusiana by S. John the Evangelist, at Rome, in which the group ofwomen and children on the right, with the little dog, is full oflife and most naturally done. Above (but almost impossible to see)is S. John in his cauldron of boiling oil between Roman soldiers andthe denouncing Emperor, under the banner S. P. Q. R. --a work in whichRoman local colour completely excludes religious feeling. Opposite, below, we see S. Philip exorcising a dragon, a very florid scene, and, above, a painfully spirited and realistic representation of theCrucifixion. The sweetness of the figures of Charity and Faith inmonochrome and gold helps, with Benedetto's tondo, to engentle the air. We then come again to the Choir, with Ghirlandaio's urbane Florentinepageant in the guise of sacred history, and pass on to the next chapel, the Cappella Gondi, where that crucifix in wood is to be seen whichBrunelleschi carved as a lesson to Donatello, who received it likethe gentleman he was. I have told the story in Chapter XV. The left transept ends in the chapel of the Strozzi family, of whichFilippo was the head in his day, and here we find Andrea Orcagna andhis brother's fresco of Heaven, the Last Judgment and Hell. It wasthe two Orcagnas who, according to Vasari, had covered the Choir withthose scenes in the life of the Virgin which Ghirlandaio was allowedto paint over, and Vasari adds that the later artist availed himselfof many of the ideas of his predecessors. This, however, is notvery likely, I think, except perhaps in choice of subject. Orcagna, like Giotto, and later, Michelangelo, was a student of Dante, andthe Strozzi chapel frescoes follow the poet's descriptions. In theLast Judgment, Dante himself is to be seen, among the elect, in theattitude of prayer. Petrarch is with him. The sacristy is by Talenti (of the Campanile) and was added in1350. Among its treasures once were the three reliquaries paintedby Fra Angelico, but they are now at S. Marco. It has still richvestments, fine woodwork, and a gay and elaborate lavabo by one ofthe della Robbias, with its wealth of ornament and colour and itscharming Madonna and Child with angels. A little doorway close by used to lead to the cloisters, and amercenary sacristan was never far distant, only too ready to unlock fora fee what should never have been locked, and black with fury if he gotnothing. But all this has now been done away with, and the entranceto the cloisters is from the Piazza, just to the left of the church, and there is a turnstile and a fee of fifty centimes. At S. Lorenzo thecloisters are free. At the Carmine and the Annunziata the cloistersare free. At S. Croce the charge is a lira and at S. Maria Novellahalf a lira. To make a charge for the cloisters alone seems to meutterly wicked. Let the Pazzi Chapel at S. Croce and the SpanishChapel here have fees, if you like; but the cloisters should be opento all. Children should be encouraged to play there. Since, however, S. Maria Novella imposes a fee we must pay it, and the new arrangement at any rate carries this advantage with it, that one knows what one is expected to pay and can count on entrance. The cloisters are everywhere interesting to loiter in, but theirchief fame is derived from the Spanish Chapel, which gained that namewhen in 1566 it was put at the disposal of Eleanor of Toledo's suiteon the occasion of her marriage to Cosimo I. Nothing Spanish aboutit otherwise. Both structure and frescoes belong to the fourteenthcentury. Of these frescoes, which are of historical and human interestrather than artistically beautiful, that one on the right wall aswe enter is the most famous. It is a pictorial glorification of theDominican order triumphant; with a vivid reminder of the origin ofthe word Dominican in the episode of the wolves (or heretics) beingattacked by black and white dogs, the Canes Domini, or hounds of theLord. The "Mornings in Florence" should here be consulted again, forRuskin made a very thorough and characteristically decisive analysisof these paintings, which, whether one agrees with it or not, isprofoundly interesting. Poor old Vasari, who so patiently describedthem too and named a number of the originals of the portraits, is nowshelved, and from both his artists, Simone Martini and Taddeo Gaddi, has the authorship been taken by modern experts. Some one, however, must have done the work. The Duomo as represented here is not theDuomo of fact, which had not then its dome, but of anticipation. Opposite, we see a representation of the triumph of the greatest of theDominicans, after its founder, S. Thomas Aquinas, the author of the"Summa Theologiae, " who died in 1274. The painter shows the AngelicDoctor enthroned amid saints and patriarchs and heavenly attendants, while three powerful heretics grovel at his feet, and beneath are theSciences and Moral Qualities and certain distinguished men who servedthem conspicuously, such as Aristotle, the logician, whom S. ThomasAquinas edited, and Cicero, the rhetorician. In real life Aquinas wasso modest and retiring that he would accept no exalted post from theChurch, but remained closeted with his books and scholars; and we canconceive what his horror would be could he view this apotheosis. On theceiling is a quaint rendering of the walking on the water, S. Peter'sfailure being watched from the ship with the utmost closeness by theother disciples, but attracting no notice whatever from an angler, close by, on the shore. The chapel is desolate and unkempt, and thoseof us who are not Dominicans are not sorry to leave it and look forthe simple sweetness of the Giottos. These are to be found, with some difficulty, on the walls of the nichewhere the tomb of the Marchese Ridolfo stands. They are certainlyvery simple and telling, and I advise every one to open the "Morningsin Florence" and learn how the wilful magical pen deals with them;but it would be a pity to give up Ghirlandaio because Giotto was sodifferent, as Ruskin wished. Room for both. One scene representsthe meeting of S. Joachim and S. Anna outside a mediaeval city'swalls, and it has some pretty Giottesque touches, such as the mancarrying doves to the Temple and the angel uniting the two saintsin friendliness; and the other is the Birth of the Virgin, whichRuskin was so pleased to pit against Ghirlandaio's treatment of thesame incident. Well, it is given to some of us to see only what wewant to see and be blind to the rest; and Ruskin was of these thevery king. I agree with him that Ghirlandaio in both his Nativityfrescoes thought little of the exhaustion of the mothers; but it isarguable that two such accouchements might with propriety be treatedas abnormal--as indeed every painter has treated the birth of Christ, where the Virgin, fully dressed, is receiving the Magi a few momentsafter. Ruskin, after making his deadly comparisons, concludes thusgenially of the Giotto version--"If you can be pleased with this, you can see Florence. But if not, by all means amuse yourself there, if you can find it amusing, as long as you like; you can never see it. " The S. Maria Novella habit is one to be quickly contracted by thevisitor to Florence: nearly as important as the S. Croce habit. Bothchurches are hospitable and, apart from the cloisters, free andeminently suited for dallying in; thus differing from the Duomo, which is dark, and S. Lorenzo, where there are payments to be madeand attendants to discourage. An effort should be made at S. Maria Novella to get into the oldcloisters, which are very large and indicate what a vast convent itonce was. But there is no certainty. The way is to go through to thePalaestra and hope for the best. Here, as I have said in the secondchapter, were lodged Pope Eugenius and his suite, when they cameto the Council of Florence in 1439. These large and beautiful greencloisters are now deserted. Through certain windows on the left onemay see chemists at work compounding drugs and perfumes after oldDominican recipes, to be sold at the Farmacia in the Via della Scalaclose by. The great refectory has been turned into a gymnasium. The two obelisks, supported by tortoises and surmounted by beautifullilies, in the Piazza of S. Maria Novella were used as boundaries inthe chariot races held here under Cosimo I, and in the collection ofold Florentine prints on the top floor of Michelangelo's house youmay see representations of these races. The charming loggia oppositeS. Maria Novella, with della Robbia decorations, is the Loggia diS. Paolo, a school designed, it is thought, by Brunelleschi, andhere, at the right hand end, we see S. Dominic himself in a friendlyembrace with S. Francis, a very beautiful group by either Luca orAndrea della Robbia. In the loggia cabmen now wrangle all day and all night. From itS. Maria Novella is seen under the best conditions, always cheerfuland serene; while far behind the church is the huge Apennine wheremost of the weather of Florence seems to be manufactured. In midApril this year (1912) it still had its cap of snow. CHAPTER XXII The Piazza Vittorio Emmanuele to S. Trinità A city of trams--The old market--Donatello's figure of Abundance--Anevening resort--A hall of variety--Florentines of to-day--The warwith Turkey--Homecoming heroes--Restaurants--The new market--Thebronze boar--A fifteenth century palace--Old Florentine lifereconstructed--Where changes are few--S. Trinità--Ghirlandaioagain--S. Francis--The Strozzi palace--Clarice de' Medici. Florence is not simple to the stranger. Like all very old citiesbuilt fortuitously it is difficult to learn: the points of thecompass are elusive; the streets are so narrow that the sky is noconstant guide; the names of the streets are often not there; thepolicemen have no high standard of helpfulness. There are trams, it is true--too many and too noisy, and too near the pavement--butthe names of their outward destinations, from the centre, too rarelycorrespond to any point of interest that one is desiring. Hence onehas many embarrassments and even annoyances. Yet I daresay this isbest: an orderly Florence is unthinkable. Since, however, the tramsthat are returning to the centre nearly all go to the Duomo, eitherpassing it or stopping there, the tram becomes one's best friend andthe Duomo one's starting point for most excursions. Supposing ourselves to be there once more, let us quickly get throughthe horrid necessity, which confronts one in all ancient Italiancities, of seeing the Piazza Vittorio Emmanuele. In an earlier chapterwe left the Baptistery and walked along the Via Calzaioli. Againstarting from the Baptistery let us take the Via dell' Arcivescovado, which is parallel with the Via Calzaioli, on the right of it, andagain walk straight forward. We shall come almost at once to thegreat modern square. No Italian city or town is complete without a Piazza Vittorio Emmanueleand a statue of that monarch. In Florence the sturdy king bestrideshis horse here. Italy being so old and Vittorio Emmanuele so new, it follows in most cases that the square or street named afterhim supplants an older one, and if the Italians had any memory orimaginative interest in history they would see to it that the oldname was not wholly obliterated. In Florence, in order to honour thefirst king of United Italy, much grave violence was done to antiquity, for a very picturesque quarter had to be cleared away for the hugebrasseries, stores and hotels which make up the west side; whichin their turn marked the site of the old market where Donatello andBrunelleschi and all the later artists of the great days did theirshopping and met to exchange ideals and banter; and that market inits turn marked the site of the Roman forum. One of the features of the old market was the charming Loggia di Pesce;another, Donatello's figure of Abundance, surmounting a column. Thisfigure is now in the museum of ancient city relics in the monasteryof S. Marco, where one confronts her on a level instead of lookingup at her in mid sky. But she is very good, none the less. In talking to elderly persons who can remember Florence forty and fiftyyears ago I find that nothing so distresses them as the loss of theold quarter for the making of this new spacious piazza; and probablynothing can so delight the younger Florentines as its possession, for, having nothing to do in the evenings, they do it chiefly in thePiazza Vittorio Emmanuele. Chairs and tables spring up like mushroomsin the roadway, among which too few waiters distribute those veryinexpensive refreshments which seem to be purchased rather for theright to the seat that they confer than for any stimulation. It isextraordinary to the eyes of the thriftless English, who are neverso happy as when they are overpaying Italian and other caterers intheir own country, to notice how long these wiser folk will occupya table on an expenditure of fourpence. I do not mean that there are no theatres in Florence. There aremany, but they are not very good; and the young men can do withoutthem. Curious old theatres, faded and artificial, all apparently builtfor the comedies of Goldoni. There are cinema theatres too, at priceswhich would delight the English public addicted to those insidiousentertainments, but horrify English managers; and the Teatro Salviniat the back of the Palazzo Vecchio is occasionally transformed into aFolies Bergères (as it is called) where one after another comediennessing each two or three songs rapidly to an audience who regard themwith apathy and converse without ceasing. The only sign of interestwhich one observes is the murmur which follows anything a littleoff the beaten track--a sound that might equally be encouragementor disapproval. But a really pretty woman entering a box movesthem. Then they employ every note in the gamut; and curiously enoughthe pretty woman in the box is usually as cool under the fusilladeas a professional and hardened sister would be. A strange music hallthis to the English eye, where the orchestra smokes, and no numbersare put up, and every one talks, and the intervals seem to be hourslong. But the Florentines do not mind, for they have not the Englishthirst for entertainment and escape; they carry their entertainmentwith them and do not wish to escape--going to such places only becausethey are warmer than out of doors. Sitting here and watching their ironical negligence of the stage andtheir interest in each other's company; their animated talk and rapiddecisions as to the merits and charms of a performer; the comfort oftheir attitudes and carelessness (although never quite slovenliness)in dress; one seems to realize the nation better than anywhere. Theold fighting passion may have gone; but much of the quickness, theshrewdness and the humour remains, together with the determination ofeach man to have if possible his own way and, whether possible or not, his own say. Seeing them in great numbers one quickly learns and steadilycorroborates the fact that the Florentines are not beautiful. Apretty woman or a handsome man is a rarity; but a dull-looking manor woman is equally rare. They are shrewd, philosophic, cynical, andvery ready for laughter. They look contented also: Florence clearlyis the best place to be born in, to live in, and to die in. Let allthe world come to Florence, by all means, and spend its money there;but don't ask Florence to go to the world. Don't in fact ask Florenceto do anything very much. Civilization and modern conditions have done the Florentines nogood. Their destiny was to live in a walled city in turbulentdays, when the foe came against it, or tyranny threatened fromwithin and had to be resisted. They were then Florentines andeverything mattered. To-day they are Italians and nothing mattersvery much. Moreover, it must be galling to have somewhere in therecesses of their consciousness the knowledge that their famous city, built and cemented with their ancestors' blood, is now only a museum. When it is fine and warm the music hall does not exist, and it isin the Piazza Vittorio Emmanuele that the Florentines sit and talk, or walk and talk, or listen to the band which periodically inhabits astand near the centre; and it was here that I watched the receptionof the news that Italy had declared war on Turkey, a decision whichwhile it rejoiced the national warlike spirit of the populace couldnot but carry with it a reminder that wars have to be paid for. Sixor seven months later I saw the return to Florence of the firsttroops from the war, and their reception was terrific. In the massthey were welcome enough; but as soon as units could be separatedfrom the mass the fun began, for they were carried shoulder high towhatever destination they wanted, their knapsacks and rifles fallingto proud bearers too; while the women clapped from the upper windows, the shrewd shopkeepers cheered from their doorways, and the crowd whichfollowed and surrounded the hero every moment increased. As for theheroes, they looked for the most part a good deal less foolish thanEnglishmen would have done; but here and there was one whose expressionsuggested that the Turks were nothing to this. One poor fellow hadhis coat dragged from his back and torn into a thousand souvenirs. The restaurants of Florence are those of a city where the nativesare thrifty and the visitors dine in hotels. There is one expensivehigh-class house, in the Via Tornabuoni--Doney e Nipoti or Doneyet Neveux--where the cooking is Franco-Italian, and the Chianti andwines are dear beyond belief, and the venerable waiters move with adeliberation which can drive a hungry man--and one is always hungryin this fine Tuscan air--to despair. I like better the excellentold-fashioned purely Italian food and Chianti and speed at Bonciani'sin the Via de Panzani, close to the station. These twain are thebest. But it is more interesting to go to the huge Gambrinus inthe Piazza Vittorio Emmanuele, because so much is going on all thetime. One curious Florentine habit is quickly discovered and resentedby the stranger who frequents a restaurant, and that is the system ofchanging waiters from one set of tables to another; so that whereasin London and Paris the wise diner is true to a corner because itcarries the same service with it, in Florence he must follow theservice. But if the restaurants have odd ways, and a limited range ofdishes and those not very interesting, they make up for it by beingastonishingly quick. Things are cooked almost miraculously. The Florentines eat little. But greediness is not an Italian fault. Nogreedy people would have a five-syllabled word for waiter. Continuing along the Via dell' Arcivescovado, which after the Piazzabecomes the Via Celimana, we come to that very beautiful structurethe Mercato Nuovo, which, however, is not so wonderfully new, havingbeen built as long ago as 1547-1551. Its columns and arched roof areexquisitely proportioned. As a market it seems to be a poor affair, the chief commodity being straw hats. For the principal food market onehas to go to the Via d'Ariento, near S. Lorenzo, and this is, I think, well worth doing early in the morning. Lovers of Hans Andersen go tothe Mercato Nuovo to see the famous bronze boar (or "metal pig, " as itwas called in the translation on which I was brought up) that standshere, on whose back the little street boy had such adventures. Theboar himself was the work of Pietro Tacca (1586-1650), a copy froman ancient marble original, now in the Uffizi, at the top of theentrance stairs; but the pedestal with its collection of creepingthings is modern. The Florentines who stand in the market niches areBernardo Cennini, a goldsmith and one of Ghiberti's assistants, whointroduced printing into Florence in 1471 and began with an edition ofVirgil; Giovanni Villani, who was the city's first serious historian, beginning in 1300 and continuing till his death in 1348; and MicheleLando, the wool-carder, who on July 22nd, 1378, at the head of a mob, overturned the power of the Signory. By continuing straight on we should come to that crowded and fussylittle street which crosses the river by the Ponte Vecchio andeventually becomes the Roman way; but let us instead turn to theright this side of the market, down the Via Porta Rossa, becausehere is the Palazzo Davanzati, which has a profound interest tolovers of the Florentine past in that it has been restored exactlyto its ancient state when Pope Eugenius IV lodged here, and has beenfilled with fourteenth and fifteenth century furniture. In those daysit was the home of the Davizza family. The Davanzati bought it latein the sixteenth century and retained it until 1838. In 1904 it wasbought by Professor Elia Volpi, who restored its ancient conditionsand presented it to the city as a permanent monument of the past. Here we see a mediaeval Florentine palace precisely as it was when itsFlorentine owner lived his uncomfortable life there. For say what onemay, there is no question that life must have been uncomfortable. Inearly and late summer, when the weather was fine and warm, thesestone floors and continuous draughts may have been solacing; but inwinter and early spring, when Florentine weather can be so bitterlyhostile, what then? That there was a big fire we know by the smokycondition of Michelozzo's charming frieze on the chimney piece; butthe room--I refer to that on the first floor--is so vast that thisfire can have done little for any one but an immediate vis-à-vis;and the room, moreover, was between the open world on the one side, and the open court (now roofed in with glass) on the other, withsuch additional opportunities for draughts as the four trap-doorsin the floor offered. It was through these traps that the stonecannon-balls still stacked in the window seats were dropped, or a fewgallons of boiling oil poured, whenever the city or a faction of itturned against the householder. Not comfortable, you see, at leastnot in our northern sense of the word, although to the hardy frugalFlorentine it may have seemed a haven of luxury. The furniture of the salon is simple and sparse and very hard. A busthere, a picture there, a coloured plate, a crucifix, and a Madonnaand Child in a niche: that was all the decoration save tapestry. Anhour glass, a pepper mill, a compass, an inkstand, stand for utility, and quaint and twisted musical instruments and a backgammon boardfor beguilement. In the salle-à-manger adjoining is less light, and here also isa symbol of Florentine unrest in the shape of a hole in the wall(beneath the niche which holds the Madonna and Child) through whichthe advancing foe, who had successfully avoided the cannon ballsand the oil, might be prodded with lances, or even fired at. Thenext room is the kitchen, curiously far from the well, the openingto which is in the salon, and then a bedroom (with some guns in it)and smaller rooms gained from the central court. The rest of the building is the same--a series of self-containedflats, but all dipping for water from the same shaft and all dependinganxiously upon the success of the first floor with invaders. At thetop is a beautiful loggia with Florence beneath it. The odd thing to remember is that for the poor of Florence, who nowinhabit houses of the same age as the Davanzati palace, the conditionsare almost as they were in the fifteenth century. A few changes havecome in, but hardly any. Myriads of the tenements have no water laidon: it must still be pulled up in buckets exactly as here. Indeed youmay often see the top floor at work in this way; and there is a rowof houses on the left of the road to the Certosa, a little way outof Florence, with a most elaborate network of bucket ropes over manygardens to one well. Similarly one sees the occupants of the higherfloors drawing vegetables and bread in baskets from the street andlowering the money for them. The postman delivers letters in thisway, too. Again, one of the survivals of the Davanzati to which thecustodian draws attention is the rain-water pipe, like a long bamboo, down the wall of the court; but one has but to walk along the ViaLambertesca, between the Uffizi and the Via Por S. Maria, and peerinto the alleys, to see that these pipes are common enough yet. In fact, directly one leaves the big streets Florence is stillfifteenth century. Less colour in the costumes, and a few anachronisms, such as gas or electric light, posters, newspapers, cigarettes, andbicycles, which dart like dragon flies (every Florentine cyclistbeing a trick cyclist); but for the rest there is no change. Thebusiness of life has not altered; the same food is eaten, the samevessels contain it, the same fire cooks it, the same red wine ismade from the same grapes in the same vineyards, the same language(almost) is spoken. The babies are christened at the same font, the parents visit the same churches. Similarly the handicrafts canhave altered little. The coppersmith, the blacksmith, the cobbler, the woodcarver, the goldsmiths in their yellow smocks, must be justas they were, and certainly the cellars and caverns under the bighouses in which they work have not changed. Where the change is, is among the better-to-do, the rich, and in the government. For nolonger is a man afraid to talk freely of politics; no longer does heshudder as he passes the Bargello; no longer is the name of Medicion his lips. Everything else is practically as it was. The Via Porta Rossa runs to the Piazza S. Trinità, the church ofS. Trinità being our destination. For here are some interestingfrescoes. First, however, let us look at the sculpture: a verybeautiful altar by Benedetto da Rovezzano in the fifth chapel of theright aisle; a monument by Luca della Robbia to one of the archbishopsof Fiesole, once in S. Pancrazio (which is now a tobacco factory)in the Via della Spada and brought here for safe keeping--a beautifulexample of Luca's genius, not only as a modeller but also as a verytreasury of pretty thoughts, for the border of flowers and leaves isbeyond praise delightful. The best green in Florence (after Nature's, which is seen through so many doorways and which splashes over somany white walls and mingles with gay fruits in so many shops) is here. In the fifth chapel of the left aisle is a Magdalen carved in woodby Desiderio da Settignano and finished by Benedetto da Maiano;while S. Trinità now possesses, but shows only on Good Friday, the very crucifix from S. Miniato which bowed down and blessedS. Gualberto. The porphyry tombs of the Sassetti, in the chapel ofthat family, by Giuliano di Sangallo, are magnificent. It is in the Sassetti chapel that we find the Ghirlandaio frescoesof scenes in the life of S. Francis which bring so many strangersto this church. The painting which depicts S. Francis receivingthe charter from the Emperor Honorius is interesting both for itshistory and its painting; for it contains a valuable record of whatthe Palazzo Vecchio and Loggia de' Lanzi were like in 1485, and alsomany portraits: among them Lorenzo the Magnificent, on the extremeright holding out his hand: Poliziano, tutor of the Medici boys, coming first up the stairs; and on the extreme left very probablyVerrocchio, one of Ghirlandaio's favourite painters. We find oldFlorence again in the very attractive picture of the resuscitationof the nice little girl in violet, a daughter of the Spini family, who fell from a window of the Spini palace (as we see in the distanceon the left, this being one of the old synchronized scenes) and wasbrought to life by S. Francis, who chanced to be flying by. Thescene is intensely local: just outside the church, looking alongwhat is now the Piazza S. Trinità and the old Trinità bridge. TheSpini palace is still there, but is now called the Ferroni, and itaccommodates no longer Florentine aristocrats but consuls and bankclerks. Among the portraits in the fresco are noble friends of theSpini family--Albrizzi, Acciaioli, Strozzi and so forth. The littlegirl is very quaint and perfectly ready to take up once more thethreads of her life. How long she lived this second time and whatbecame of her I have not been able to discover. Her tiny sister, behind the bier, is even quainter. On the left is a little groupof the comely Florentine ladies in whom Ghirlandaio so delighted, tall and serene, with a few youths among them. It is interesting to note that Ghirlandaio in his S. Trinità frescoesand Benedetto da Maiano in his S. Croce pulpit reliefs chose exactlythe same scenes in the life of S. Francis: interesting becausewhen Ghirlandaio was painting frescoes at San Gimignano in 1475, Benedetto was at work on the altar for the same church of S. Fina, and they were friends. Where Ghirlandaio and Giotto, also in S. Croce, also coincide in choice of subject some interesting comparisons maybe made, all to the advantage of Giotto in spiritual feeling andunsophisticated charm, but by no means to Ghirlandaio's detrimentas a fascinating historian in colour. In the scene of the death ofS. Francis we find Ghirlandaio and Giotto again on the same ground, and here it is probable that the later painter went to the earlierfor inspiration; for he has followed Giotto in the fine thought thatmakes one of the attendant brothers glance up as though at the saint'sascending spirit. It is remarkable how, with every picture that onesees, Giotto's completeness of equipment as a religious painter becomesmore marked. His hand may have been ignorant of many masterly devicesfor which the time was not ripe; but his head and heart knew all. The patriarchs in the spandrels of the choir are by Ghirlandaio'smaster, Alessio Baldovinetti, of whom I said something in the chapteron S. Maria Novella. They once more testify to this painter's charmand brilliance. Almost more than that of any other does one regret thescarcity of his work. It was fitting that he should have painted thechoir, for his name-saint, S. Alessio, guards the façade of the church. The column opposite the church came from the baths of Caracalla andwas set up by Cosimo I, upon the attainment of his life-long ambitionof a grand-dukeship and a crown. The figure at the top is Justice. S. Trinità is a good starting-point for the leisurely examination ofthe older and narrower streets, an occupation which so many visitorsto Florence prefer to the study of picture galleries and churches. Andperhaps rightly. In no city can they carry on their researches withsuch ease, for Florence is incurious about them. Either the Florentinesare too much engrossed in their own affairs or the peering foreignerhas become too familiar an object to merit notice, but one may driftabout even in the narrowest alleys beside the Arno, east and west, and attract few eyes. And the city here is at its most romantic:between the Piazza S. Trinità and the Via Por S. Maria, all aboutthe Borgo SS. Apostoli. We have just been discussing Benedetto da Maiano the sculptor. If weturn to the left on leaving S. Trinità, instead of losing ourselves inthe little streets, we are in the Via Tornabuoni, where the best shopsare and American is the prevailing language. We shall soon come, on theright, to an example of Benedetto's work as an architect, for the firstdraft of the famous Palazzo Strozzi, the four-square fortress-homewhich Filippo Strozzi began for himself in 1489, was his. Benedettocontinued the work until his death in 1507, when Cronaca, who builtthe great hall in the Palazzo Vecchio, took it over and added thefamous cornice. The iron lantern and other smithwork were by Lorenzothe Magnificent's sardonic friend, "Il Caparro, " of the Sign of theBurning Books, of whom I wrote in the chapter on the Medici palace. The first mistress of the Strozzi palace was Clarice Strozzi, née Clarice de' Medici, the daughter of Piero, son of Lorenzo theMagnificent. She was born in 1493 and married Filippo Strozzi theyounger in 1508, during the family's second period of exile. Theythen lived at Rome, but were allowed to return to Florence in1510. Clarice's chief title to fame is her proud outburst when sheturned Ippolito and Alessandro out of the Medici palace. She diedin 1528 and was buried in S. Maria Novella. The unfortunate Filippomet his end nine years later in the Boboli fortezza, which his moneyhad helped to build and in which he was imprisoned for his share ina conspiracy against Cosimo I. Cosimo confiscated the palace and allStrozzi's other possessions, but later made some restitution. To-daythe family occupy the upper part of their famous imperishable home, and beneath there is an exhibition of pictures and antiquities forsale. No private individual, whatever his wealth or ambition, willprobably ever again succeed in building a house half so strong ornoble as this. CHAPTER XXIII The Pitti Luca Pitti's pride--Preliminary caution--A terrace view--Acollection but not a gallery--The personally-conducted--Giorgionethe superb--Sustermans--The "Madonna del Granduca"--The "Madonnadella Sedia"--From Cimabue to Raphael--Andrea del Sarto--Two Popesand a bastard--The ill-fated Ippolito--The National Gallery--Royalapartments--"Pallas Subduing the Centaur"--The Boboli Gardens. The Pitti approached from the Via Guicciardini is far liker a prisonthan a palace. It was commissioned by Luca Pitti, one of the proudestand richest of the rivals of the Medici, in 1441. Cosimo de' Medici, as we have seen, had rejected Brunelleschi's plans for a palazzoas being too pretentious and gone instead to his friend Michelozzofor something that externally at any rate was more modest; Pitti, whose one ambition was to exceed Cosimo in power, popularity, andvisible wealth, deliberately chose Brunelleschi, and gave him carteblanche to make the most magnificent mansion possible. Pitti, however, plotting against Cosimo's son Piero, was frustrated and condemned todeath; and although Piero obtained his pardon he lost all his friendsand passed into utter disrespect in the city. Meanwhile his palaceremained unfinished and neglected, and continued so for a century, when it was acquired by the Grand Duchess Eleanor of Toledo, the wifeof Cosimo I, who though she saw only the beginnings of its splendourslived there awhile and there brought up her doomed brood. Eleanor'sarchitect--or rather Cosimo's, for though the Grand Duchess paid, the Grand Duke controlled--was Ammanati, the designer of the Neptunefountain in the Piazza della Signoria. Other important additions weremade later. The last Medicean Grand Duke to occupy the Pitti was GianGastone, a bizarre detrimental, whose head, in a monstrous wig, maybe seen at the top of the stairs leading to the Uffizi gallery. Hedied in 1737. As I have said in chapter VIII, it was by the will of Gian Gastone'ssister, widow of the Elector Palatine, who died in 1743, that theMedicean collections became the property of the Florentines. Thisbequest did not, however, prevent the migration of many of thebest pictures to Paris under Napoleon, but after Waterloo they cameback. The Pitti continued to be the home of princes after Gian Gastonequitted a world which he found strange and made more so; but they werenot of the Medici blood. It is now a residence of the royal family. The first thing to do if by evil chance one enters the Pitti by thecovered way from the Uffizi is, just before emerging into the palace, to avoid the room where copies of pictures are sold, for not only isit a very catacomb of headache, from the fresh paint, but the copiesare in themselves horrible and lead to disquieting reflections onthe subject of sweated labour. The next thing to do, on at lastemerging, is to walk out on the roof from the little room at thetop of the stairs, and get a supply of fresh air for the gallery, and see Florence, which is very beautiful from here. Looking overthe city one notices that the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio is almostmore dominating than the Duomo, the work of the same architect whobegan this palace. Between the two is Fiesole. The Signoria tower is, as I say, the highest. Then the Duomo. Then Giotto's Campanile. TheBargello is hidden, but the graceful Badia tower is seen; also thelittle white Baptistery roof with its lantern just showing. From thefortezza come the sounds of drums and bugles. Returning from this terrace we skirt a vast porphyry basin and reachthe top landing of the stairs (which was, I presume, once a loggia)where there is a very charming marble fountain; and from this weenter the first room of the gallery. The Pitti walls are so congestedand so many of the pictures so difficult to see, that I propose torefer only to those which, after a series of visits, seem to me theabsolute best. Let me hasten to say that to visit the Pitti galleryon any but a really bright day is folly. The great windows (whichwere to be larger than Cosimo de' Medici's doors) are excellent tolook out of, but the rooms are so crowded with paintings on wallsand ceilings, and the curtains are so absorbent of light, that unlessthere is sunshine one gropes in gloom. The only pictures in short thatare properly visible are those on screens or hinges; and these are, fortunately almost without exception, the best. The Pitti rooms werenever made for pictures at all, and it is really absurd that so manybeautiful things should be massed here without reasonable lighting. The Pitti also is always crowded. The Uffizi is never crowded; theAccademia is always comfortable; the Bargello is sparsely attended. Butthe Pitti is normally congested, not only by individuals but by flocks, whose guides, speaking broken English, and sometimes broken American, lead from room to room. I need hardly say that they form the tightestknots before the works of Raphael. All this is proper enough, ofcourse, but it serves to render the Pitti a difficult gallery rightlyto study pictures in. In the first chapter on the Uffizi I have said how simple it is, in the Pitti, to name the best picture of all, and how difficult inmost galleries. But the Pitti has one particular jewel which throwseverything into the background: the work not of a Florentine but of aVenetian: "The Concert" of Giorgione, which stands on an easel in theSala di Marte. [9] It is true that modern criticism has doubted thelightness of the ascription, and many critics, whose one idea seemsto be to deprive Giorgione of any pictures at all, leaving him buta glorious name without anything to account for it, call it an earlyTitian; but this need not trouble us. There the picture is, and neverdo I think to see anything more satisfying. Piece by piece, it isnot more than fine rich painting, but as a whole it is impressive andmysterious and enchanting. Pater compares the effect of it to music;and he is right. The Sala dell' Iliade (the name of each room refers always to theceiling painting, which, however, one quite easily forgets to look at)is chiefly notable for the Raphael just inside the door: "La DonnaGravida, " No. 229, one of his more realistic works, with bolder colourthan usual and harder treatment; rather like the picture that hasbeen made its pendant, No. 224, an "Incognita" by Ridolfo Ghirlandaio, very firmly painted, but harder still. Between them is the first of themany Pitti Andrea del Sartos: No. 225, an "Assumption of the Madonna, "opposite a similar work from the same brush, neither containing quitethe finest traits of this artist. But the youth with outstretched handat the tomb is nobly done. No. 265, "Principe Mathias de' Medici, "is a good bold Sustermans, but No. 190, on the opposite wall, is afar better--a most charming work representing the Crown Prince ofDenmark, son of Frederick III. Justus Sustermans, who has so manyportraits here and elsewhere in Florence, was a Belgian, born in 1597, who settled in Florence as a portrait painter to Cosimo III. Van Dyckgreatly admired his work and painted him. He died at Florence in 1681. No. 208, a "Virgin Enthroned, " by Fra Bartolommeo, is from S. Marco, and it had better have been painted on the wall there, like the FraAngelicos, and then the convent would have it still. The Child is veryattractive, as almost always in this artist's work, but the pictureas a whole has grown rather dingy. By the window is a Velasquez, thefirst we have seen in Florence, a little Philip IV on his prancingsteed, rather too small for its subject, but very interesting hereamong the Italians. In the next large room--the Sala di Saturno--we come again toRaphael, who is indeed the chief master of the Pitti, his exquisite"Madonna del Granduca" being just to the left of the door. Here wehave the simplest colouring and perfect sweetness, and such serenityof mastery as must be the despair of the copyists, who, however, never cease attempting it. The only defect is a little clumsinessin the Madonna's hand. The picture was lost for two centuries and itthen changed owners for twelve crowns, the seller being a poor womanand the buyer a bookseller. The bookseller found a ready purchaserin the director of the Grand Duke Ferdinand III's gallery, and theGrand Duke so esteemed it that he carried it with him on all hisjourneys, just as Sir George Beaumont, the English connoisseur, nevertravelled without a favourite Claude. Hence its name. Another Andreadel Sarto, the "Disputa sulla Trinita, " No. 172, is close by, noblydrawn but again not of his absolute best, and then five more Raphaelsor putative Raphaels--No. 171, Tommaso Inghirami; No. 61, Angelo Doni, the collector and the friend of artists, for whom Michelangelo paintedhis "Holy Family" in the Uffizi; No. 59, Maddalena Doni; and aboveall No. 174, "The Vision of Ezekiel, " that little great picture, so strong and spirited, and--to coin a word--Sixtinish. All these, I may say, are questioned by experts; but some very fine hand isto be seen in them any way. Over the "Ezekiel" is still another, No. 165, the "Madonna detta del Baldacchino, " which is so much betterin the photographs. Next this group--No. 164--we find Raphael'sfriend Perugino with an Entombment, but it lacks his divine glow;and above it a soft and mellow and easy Andrea del Sarto, No. 163, which ought to be in a church rather than here. A better Peruginois No. 42, which has all his sweetness, but to call it the Magdalenis surely wrong; and close by it a rather formal Fra Bartolommeo, No. 159, "Gesu Resuscitato, " from the church of SS. Annunziata, inwhich once again the babies who hold the circular landscape are thebest part. After another doubtful Raphael--the sly Cardinal Divizioda Bibbiena, No. 158--let us look at an unquestioned one, No. 151, the most popular picture in Florence, if not the whole world, Raphael's"Madonna della Sedia, " that beautiful rich scene of maternal tendernessand infantine peace. Personally I do not find myself often underRaphael's spell; but here he conquers. The Madonna again is withoutenough expression, but her arms are right, and the Child is right, and the colour is so rich, almost Venetian in that odd way in whichRaphael now and then could suggest Venice. It is interesting to compare Raphael's two famous Madonnas in thisroom: this one belonging to his Roman period and the other, oppositeit, to Florence, with the differences so marked. For by the time hepainted this he knew more of life and human affection. This picture, I suppose, might be called the consummation of Renaissance painting infullest bloom: the latest triumph of that impulse. I do not say it isthe best; but it may be called a crown on the whole movement both insubject and treatment. Think of the gulf between the Cimabue Madonnaand the Giotto Madonna, side by side, which we saw in the Accademia, and this. With so many vivid sympathies Giotto must have wanted withall his soul to make the mother motherly and the child childlike; butthe time was not yet; his hand was neither free nor fit. Between Giottoand Raphael had to come many things before such treatment as this waspossible; most of all, I think, Luca della Robbia had to come between, for he was the most valuable reconciler of God and man of them all. Hewas the first to bring a tender humanity into the Church, the firstto know that a mother's fingers, holding a baby, sink into its softlittle body. Without Luca I doubt if the "Madonna della Sedia" couldbe the idyll of protective solicitude and loving pride that it is. The Sala di Giove brings us to Venetian painting indeed, and gloriouspainting too, for next the door is Titian's "Bella, " No. 18, the ladyin the peacock-blue dress with purple sleeves, all richly embroideredin gold, whom to see once is to remember for ever. On the other side ofthe door is Andrea's brilliant "S. John the Baptist as a Boy, " No. 272, and then the noblest Fra Bartolommeo here, a Deposition, No. 64, notgood in colour, but superbly drawn and pitiful. In this room also isthe monk's great spirited figure of S. Marco, for the convent of thatname. Between them is a Tintoretto, No. 131, Vincenzo Zeino, one of hisruddy old men, with a glimpse of Venice, under an angry sky, throughthe window. Over the door, No. 124, is an Annunciation by Andrea, with a slight variation in it, for two angels accompany that one whobrings the news, and the announcement is made from the right insteadof the left, while the incident is being watched by some people on theterrace over a classical portico. A greater Andrea hangs next: No. 123, the Madonna in Glory, fine but rather formal, and, like all Andrea'swork, hall-marked by its woman type. The other notable pictures areRaphael's Fornarina, No. 245, which is far more Venetian than the"Madonna della Sedia, " and has been given to Sebastian del Piombo;and the Venetian group on the right of the door, which is not onlyinteresting for its own charm but as being a foretaste of the superband glorious Giorgione in the Sala di Marte, which we now enter. Here we find a Rembrandt, No. 16, an old man: age and dignity emerginggolden from the gloom; and as a pendant a portrait, with somewhatsimilar characteristics, but softer, by Tintoretto, No. 83. Betweenthem is a prosperous, ruddy group of scholars by Rubens, who hasplaced a vase of tulips before the bust of Seneca. And we find Rubensagain with a sprawling, brilliant feat entitled "The Consequencesof War, " but what those consequences are, beyond nakedness, onehas difficulty in discerning. Raphael's Holy Family, No. 94 (alsoknown as the "Madonna dell' Impannata"), next it might be called theperfection of drawing without feeling. The authorities consider it aschool piece: that is to say, chiefly the work of his imitators. Thevivacity of the Child's face is very remarkable. The best Andrea isin this room--a Holy Family, No. 81, which gets sweeter and simplerand richer with every glance. Other Andreas are here too, notably onthe right of the further door a sweet mother and sprawling, vigorousChild. But every Andrea that I see makes me think more highly of the"Madonna della Sacco, " in the cloisters of SS. Annunziata. Van Dyck, who painted much in Italy before settling down at the English court, we find in this room with a masterly full-length seated portrait ofan astute cardinal. But the room's greatest glory, as I have said, is the Giorgione on the easel. In the Sala di Apollo, at the right of the door as we enter, isAndrea's portrait of himself, a serious and mysterious face shiningout of darkness, and below it is Titian's golden Magdalen, No. 67, the same ripe creature that we saw at the Uffizi posing as Flora, again diffusing Venetian light. On the other side of the door we find, for the first time in Florence, Murillo, who has two groups of theMadonna and Child on this wall, the better being No. 63, which is bothsweet and masterly. In No. 56 the Child becomes a pretty Spanish boyplaying with a rosary, and in both He has a faint nimbus instead ofthe halo to which we are accustomed. On the same wall is another fineAndrea, who is most lavishly represented in this gallery, No. 58, a Deposition, all gentle melancholy rather than grief. The kneelinggirl is very beautiful. Finally there are Van Dyck's very charming portrait of CharlesI of England and Henrietta, a most deft and distinguished work, and Raphael's famous portrait of Leo X with two companions: ratherdingy, and too like three persons set for the camera, but powerful anddeeply interesting to us, because here we see the first Medici pope, Leo X, Lorenzo de' Medici's son Giovanni, who gave Michelangelo thecommission for the Medici tombs and the new Sacristy of S. Lorenzo;and in the young man on the Pope's right hand we see none otherthan Giulio, natural son of Giuliano de' Medici, Lorenzo's brother, who afterwards became Pope as Clement VII. It was he who laid siegeto Florence when Michelangelo was called upon to fortify it; and itwas during his pontificate that Henry VIII threw off the shacklesof Rome and became the Defender of the Faith. Himself a bastard, Giulio became the father of the base-born Alessandro of Urbino, first Duke of Florence, who, after procuring the death of Ippolitoand living a life of horrible excess, was himself murdered by hiscousin Lorenzino in order to rid Florence of her worst tyrant. Inhis portrait Leo X has an illuminated missal and a magnifying glass, as indication of his scholarly tastes. That he was also a good liverhis form and features testify. Of this picture an interesting story is told. After the battle ofPavia, in 1525, Clement VII wishing to be friendly with the Marquisof Gonzaga, a powerful ally of the Emperor Charles V, asked him whathe could do for him, and Gonzaga expressed a wish for the portraitof Leo X, then in the Medici palace. Clement complied, but wishingto retain at any rate a semblance of the original, directed that thepicture should be copied, and Andrea del Sarto was chosen for thattask. The copy turned out to be so close that Gonzaga never obtainedthe original at all. In the next room--the Sala di Venere, and the last room in the longsuite--we find another Raphael portrait, and another Pope, this timeJulius II, that Pontiff whose caprice and pride together renderednull and void and unhappy so many years of Michelangelo's life, since it was for him that the great Julian tomb, never completed, wasdesigned. A replica of this picture is in our National Gallery. Herealso are a wistful and poignant John the Baptist by Dossi, No. 380;two Dürers--an Adam and an Eve, very naked and primitive, facingeach other from opposite walls; and two Rubens landscapes not equalto ours at Trafalgar Square, but spacious and lively. The gem of theroom is a lovely Titian, No. 92, on an easel, a golden work of supremequietude and disguised power. The portrait is called sometimes theDuke of Norfolk, sometimes the "Young Englishman". Returning to the first room--the Sala of the Iliad--we enter the Saladell' Educazione di Giove, and find on the left a little gipsy portraitby Boccaccio Boccaccino (1497-1518) which has extraordinary charm:a grave, wistful, childish face in a blue handkerchief: quite a newkind of picture here. I reproduce it in this volume, but it wantsits colour. For the rest, the room belongs to less-known and latermen, in particular to Cristofano Allori (1577-1621), with his famousJudith, reproduced in all the picture shops of Florence. This work isno favourite of mine, but one cannot deny it power and richness. TheGuido Reni opposite, in which an affected fat actress poses asCleopatra with the asp, is not, however, even tolerable. We next pass, after a glance perhaps at the adjoining tapestry roomon the left (where the bronze Cain and Abel are), the most elegantbathroom imaginable, fit for anything rather than soap and splashes, and come to the Sala di Ulisse and some good Venetian portraits:a bearded senator in a sable robe by Paolo Veronese, No. 216, and, No. 201, Titian's fine portrait of the ill-fated Ippolito de'Medici, son of that Giuliano de' Medici, Duc de Nemours, whosetomb by Michelangelo is at S. Lorenzo. This amiable young man wasbrought up by Leo X until the age of twelve, when the Pope died, and the boy was sent to Florence to live at the Medici palace, with the base-born Alessandro, under the care of Cardinal Passerini, where he remained until Clarice de' Strozzi ordered both the boys toquit. In 1527 came the third expulsion of the Medici from Florence, and Ippolito wandered about until Clement VII, the second MediciPope, was in Rome, after the sack, and, joining him there, he was, against his will, made a cardinal, and sent to Hungary: Clement's ideabeing to establish Alessandro (his natural son) as Duke of Florence, and squeeze Ippolito, the rightful heir, out. This, Clement succeededin doing, and the repulsive and squalid-minded Alessandro--known asthe Mule--was installed. Ippolito, in whom this proceeding causeddeep grief, settled in Bologna and took to scholarship, among othertasks translating part of the Aeneid into Italian blank verse;but when Clement died and thus liberated Rome from a vile tyranny, he was with him and protected his corpse from the angry mob. Thatwas in 1534, when Ippolito was twenty-seven. In the following yeara number of exiles from Florence who could not endure Alessandro'soffensive ways, or had been forced by him to fly, decided to appealto the Emperor Charles V for assistance against such a contemptibleruler; and Ippolito headed the mission; but before he could reach theEmperor an emissary of Alessandro's succeeded in poisoning him. Suchwas Ippolito de' Medici, grandson of the great Lorenzo, whom Titianpainted, probably when he was in Bologna, in 1533 or 1534. This room also contains a nice little open decorative scene--like asketch for a fresco--of the Death of Lucrezia, No. 388, attributedto the School of Botticelli, and above it a good Royal Academy Andreadel Sarto. The next is the best of these small rooms--the Sala ofPrometheus--where on Sundays most people spend their time inastonishment over the inlaid tables, but where Tuscan art also isvery beautiful. The most famous picture is, I suppose, the circularFilippino Lippi, No. 343, but although the lively background isvery entertaining and the Virgin most wonderfully painted, the Childis a serious blemish. The next favourite, if not the first, is thePerugino on the easel--No. 219--one of his loveliest small pictures, with an evening glow among the Apennines such as no other paintercould capture. Other fine works here are the Fra Bartolommeo, No. 256, over the door, a Holy Family, very pretty and characteristic, and his"Ecce Homo, " next it; the adorable circular Botticini (as the cataloguecalls it, although the photographers waver between Botticelli andFilippino Lippi), No. 347, with its myriad roses and children withtheir little folded hands and the Mother and Child diffusing happysweetness, which, if only it were a little less painty, would be oneof the chief magnets of the gallery. Hereabout are many Botticelli school pictures, chief of these thecurious girl, called foolishly "La Bella Simonetta, " which Mr. Berensonattributes to that unknown disciple of Botticelli to whom he has giventhe charming name of Amico di Sandro. This study in browns, yellow, and grey always has its public. Other popular Botticelli derivativesare Nos. 348 and 357. Look also at the sly and curious woman (No. 102), near the window, by Ubertini, a new artist here; and the pretty Jacopodel Sellaio, No. 364; a finely drawn S. Sebastian by Pollaiuolo;the Holy Family by Jacopo di Boateri, No. 362, with very pleasantcolouring; No. 140, the "Incognita, " which people used to think wasby Leonardo--for some reason difficult to understand except on theprinciple of making the wish father to the thought--and is now givento Bugiardini; and lastly a rich and comely example of Lombardy art, No. 299. From this room we will enter first the Corridio delle Colonne whereCardinal Leopoldo de' Medici's miniature portraits are hung, allremarkable and some superb, but unfortunately not named, togetherwith a few larger works, all very interesting. That Young Goldsmith, No. 207, which used to be given to Leonardo but is now RidolfoGhirlandaio's, is here; a Franciabigio, No. 43; a questioned Raphael, No. 44; a fine and sensitive head of one of the Gonzaga family byMantegna, No. 375; the coarse head of Giovanni Bentivoglio by daCosta, No. 376; and a Pollaiuolo, No. 370, S. Jerome, whose fine raptcountenance is beautifully drawn. In the Sala della Giustizia we come again to the Venetians: a noblePiombo, No. 409; the fine Aretino and Tommaso Mosti by Titian;Tintoretto's portrait of a man, No. 410; and two good Moronis. ButI am not sure that Dosso Dossi's "Nymph and Satyr" on the easel isnot the most remarkable achievement here. I do not, however, caregreatly for it. In the Sala di Flora we find some interesting Andreas; a beautifulportrait by Puligo, No. 184; and Giulio Romano's famous frieze ofdancers. Also a fine portrait by Allori, No. 72. The end room of allis notable for a Ruysdael. Finally there is the Sala del Poccetti, out of the Sala di Prometeo, which, together with the preceding two rooms that I have described, has lately been rearranged. Here now is the hard but masterly HolyFamily of Bronzino, who has an enormous amount of work in Florence, chiefly Medicean portraits, but nowhere, I think, reaches the levelof his "Allegory" in our National Gallery, or the portrait in theTaylor collection sold at Christie's in 1912. Here also are fourrich Poussins; two typical Salvator Rosa landscapes and a battlepiece from the same hand; and, by some strange chance, a portraitof Oliver Cromwell by Sir Peter Lely. But the stone table again winsmost attention. And here, as we leave the last of the great picture collections ofFlorence, I would say how interesting it is to the returned visitorto London to go quickly to the National Gallery and see how wecompare with them. Florence is naturally far richer than we, butalthough only now and then have we the advantage, we can valuablysupplement in a great many cases. And the National Gallery keepsup its quality throughout--it does not suddenly fall to pieces asthe Uffizi does. Thus, I doubt if Florence with all her Andreashas so exquisite a thing from his hand as our portrait of a "YoungSculptor, " so long called a portrait of the painter himself; and wehave two Michelangelo paintings to the Uffizi's one. In Leonardo theLouvre is of course far richer, even without the Gioconda, but wehave at Burlington House the cartoon for the Louvre's S. Anne whichmay pair off with the Uffizi's unfinished Madonna, and we have alsoat the National Gallery his finished "Virgin of the Rocks, " whileto Burlington House one must go too for Michelangelo's beautifultondo. In Piero di Cosimo we are more fortunate than the Uffizi; andwe have Raphaels as important as those of the Pitti. We are strongtoo in Perugino, Filippino Lippi, and Luca Signorelli, while when itcomes to Piero della Francesca we lead absolutely. Our Verrocchio, or School of Verrocchio, is a superb thing, while our Cimabue (fromS. Croce) has a quality of richness not excelled by any that I haveseen elsewhere. But in Botticelli Florence wins. The Pitti palace contains also the apartments in which the Kingand Queen of Italy reside when they visit Florence, which is notoften. Florence became the capital of Italy in 1865, on the day ofthe sixth anniversary of the birth of Dante. It remained the capitaluntil 1870, when Rome was chosen. The rooms are shown thrice aweek, and are not, I think, worth the time that one must give to theperambulation. Beyond this there is nothing to say, except that theywould delight children. Visitors are hurried through in small bands, and dallying is discouraged. Hence one is merely tantalized by thepresence of their greatest treasure, Botticelli's "Pallas subduingthe Centaur, " painted to commemorate Lorenzo de' Medici's successfuldiplomatic mission to the King of Naples in 1480, to bring aboutthe end of the war with Sixtus IV, the prime instigator of the PazziConspiracy and the bitter enemy of Lorenzo in particular--whose onlyfault, as he drily expressed it, had been to "escape being murderedin the Cathedral"--and of all Tuscany in general. Botticelli, whomwe have already seen as a Medicean allegorist, always ready withhis glancing genius to extol and commend the virtues of that family, here makes the centaur typify war and oppression while the beautifulfigure which is taming and subduing him by reason represents Pallas, or the arts of peace, here identifiable with Lorenzo by the laurelwreath and the pattern of her robe, which is composed of his privatecrest of diamond rings intertwined. This exquisite picture--so richin colour and of such power and impressiveness--ought to be removedto an easel in the Pitti Gallery proper. The "Madonna della Rosa, "by Botticelli or his School, is also here, and I had a moment beforea very alluring Holbein. But my memory of this part of the palace ismade up of gilt and tinsel and plush and candelabra, with two piecesof furniture outstanding--a blue and silver bed, and a dining tablerather larger than a lawn-tennis court. The Boboli gardens, which climb the hill from the Pitti, are alsoopened only on three afternoons a week. The panorama of Florence andthe surrounding Apennines which one has from the Belvedere makes avisit worth while; but the gardens themselves are, from the Englishpoint of view, poor, save in extent and in the groves on the way tothe stables (scuderie). Like all gardens where clipped walks are theprincipal feature, they want people. They were made for people toenjoy them, rather than for flowers to grow in, and at every turnthere is a new and charming vista in a green frame. It was from the Boboli hill-side before it was a garden that muchof the stone of Florence was quarried. With such stones so near itis less to be wondered at that the buildings are what they are. Andyet it is wonderful too--that these little inland Italian citizensshould so have built their houses for all time. It proves them tohave had great gifts of character. There is no such building any more. The Grotto close to the Pitti entrance, which contains some ofMichelangelo's less remarkable "Prisoners, " intended for the greatJulian tomb, is so "grottesque" that the statues are almost lost, andaltogether it is rather an Old Rye House affair; and though Giovannida Bologna's fountain in the midst of a lake is very fine, I doubt ifthe walk is quite worth it. My advice rather is to climb at once tothe top, at the back of the Pitti, by way of the amphitheatre wherethe gentlemen and ladies used to watch court pageants, and past thatingenious fountain above it, in which Neptune's trident itself spoutswater, and rest in the pretty flower garden on the very summit of thehill, among the lizards. There, seated on the wall, you may watch thepeasants at work in the vineyards, and the white oxen ploughing inthe olive groves, in the valley between this hill and S. Miniato. Inspring the contrast between the greens of the crops and the silvergrey of the olives is vivid and gladsome; in September, one may seethe grapes being picked and piled into the barrels, immediately below, and hear the squdge as the wooden pestle is driven into the purplemass and the juice gushes out. CHAPTER XXIV English Poets in Florence Casa Guidi--The Brownings--Giotto's missing spire--James RussellLowell--Lander's early life--Fra Bartolommeo before Raphael--The Tuscangardener--The "Villa Landor" to-day--Storms on the hillside--Pastoralpoetry--Italian memories in England--The final outburst--Last daysin Florence--The old lion's beguilements--The famous epitaph. On a house in the Piazza S. Felice, obliquely facing the Pitti, withwindows both in the Via Maggio and Via Mazzetta, is a tablet, placedthere by grateful Florence, stating that it was the home of Robertand of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and that her verse made a goldenring to link England to Italy. In other words, this is Casa Guidi. A third member of the family, Flush the spaniel, was also with them, and they moved here in 1848, and it was here that Mrs. Browningdied, in 1861. But it was not their first Florentine home, for in1847 they had gone into rooms in the Via delle Belle Donne--theStreet of Beautiful Ladies--whose name so fascinated Ruskin, nearS. Maria Novella. At Casa Guidi Browning wrote, among other poems, "Christinas Eve and Easter Day, " "The Statue and the Bust" of which Ihave said something in chapter XIX, and the "Old Pictures in Florence, "that philosophic commentary on Vasari, which ends with the spiritedappeal for the crowning of Giotto's Campanile with the addition ofthe golden spire that its builder intended-- Fine as the beak of a young beccaccia The campanile, the Duomo's fit ally, Shall soar up in gold full fifty braccia, Completing Florence, as Florence Italy. But I suppose that the monologues "Andrea del Sarto" and "Fra LippoLippi" would be considered the finest fruit of Browning's Florentinesojourn, as "Casa Guidi Windows" is of Mrs. Browning's. Her great poemis indeed as passionate a plea for Italian liberty as anything by anItalian poet. Here also she wrote much if not all of "Aurora Leigh, ""The Poems before Congress, " and those other Italian political pieceswhich when her husband collected them as "Last Poems" he dedicated"to 'grateful Florence'". In these Casa Guidi rooms the happiest days of both lives werespent, and many a time have the walls resounded to the great voice, laughing, praising or condemning, of Walter Savage Landor; while theshy Hawthorne has talked here too. Casa Guidi lodged not only theBrownings, but, at one time, Lowell, who was not, however, a verygood Florentine. "As for pictures, " I find him writing, in 1874, on a later visit, "I am tired to death of 'em, . .. And then most ofthem are so bad. I like best the earlier ones, that say so much intheir half-unconscious prattle, and talk nature to me instead ofhigh art. " But "the older streets, " he says, "have a noble mediaevaldistance and reserve for me--a frown I was going to call it, notof hostility, but of haughty doubt. These grim palace fronts meetyou with an aristocratic start that puts you to the proof of yourcredentials. There is to me something wholesome in that that makesyou feel your place. " The Brownings are the two English poets who first spring to mindin connexion with Florence; but they had had very illustriouspredecessors. In August and September, 1638, during the reignof Ferdinand II, John Milton was here, and again in the spring of1639. He read Latin poems to fellow-scholars in the city and receivedcomplimentary sonnets in reply. Here he met Galileo, and from herehe made the excursion to Vallombrosa which gave him some of his mostfamous lines. He also learned enough of the language to write lovepoetry to a lady in Bologna, although he is said to have offendedItalians generally by his strict morality. Skipping a hundred and eighty years we find Shelley in Florence, in 1819, and it was here that his son was born, receiving the namesPercy Florence. Here he wrote, as I have said, his "Ode to the WestWind" and that grimly comic work "Peter Bell the Third". But next the Brownings it is Walter Savage Landor of whom I alwaysthink as the greatest English Florentine. Florence became his secondhome when he was middle-aged and strong; and then again, when he wasa very old man, shipwrecked by his impulsive and impossible temper, it became his last haven. It was Browning who found him his finalresting-place--a floor of rooms not far from where we now stand, in the Via Nunziatina. Florence is so intimately associated with Landor, and Landor wasso happy in Florence, that a brief outline of his life seems tobe imperative. Born in 1775, the heir to considerable estates, the boy soon developed that whirlwind headstrong impatience whichwas to make him as notorious as his exquisite genius has made himfamous. He was sent to Rugby, but disapproving of the headmaster'sjudgment of his Latin verses, he produced such a lampoon upon him, also in Latin, as made removal or expulsion a necessity. At Oxfordhis Latin and Greek verses were still his delight, but he tookalso to politics, was called a mad Jacobin, and, in order to provehis sanity and show his disapproval of a person obnoxious to him, fired a gun at his shutters and was sent down for a year. He neverreturned. After a period of strained relations with his fatherand hot repudiations of all the plans for his future which weremade for him--such as entering the militia, reading law, and soforth--he retired to Wales on a small allowance and wrote "Gebir"which came out in 1798, when its author was twenty-three. In 1808Landor threw in his lot with the Spaniards against the French, sawsome fighting and opened his purse for the victims of the war; butthe usual personal quarrel intervened. Returning to England he boughtLlanthony Abbey, stocked it with Spanish sheep, planted extensively, and was to be the squire of squires; and at the same time seeing apretty penniless girl at a ball in Bath, he made a bet he would marryher, and won it. As a squire he became quickly involved with neighbours(an inevitable proceeding with him) and also with a Bishop concerningthe restoration of the church. Lawsuits followed, and such expensesand vexations occurred that Landor decided to leave England--alwaysa popular resource with his kind. His mother took over the estateand allowed him an income upon which he travelled from place toplace for a few years, quarrelling with his wife and making it up, writing Latin verses everywhere and on everything, and coming intocollision not only with individuals but with municipalities. He settled in Florence in 1821, finding rooms in the Palazzo Medici, or, rather, Riccardi. There he remained for five years, which no doubtwould have been a longer period had he not accused his landlord, the Marquis, who was then the head of the family, of seducing awayhis coachman. Landor wrote stating the charge; the Marquis, callingin reply, entered the room with his hat on, and Landor first knockedit off and then gave notice. It was at the Palazzo Medici that Landorwas visited by Hazlitt in 1825, and here also he began the "ImaginaryConversations, " his best-known work, although it is of course suchbrief and faultless lyrics as "Rose Aylmer" and "To Ianthe" that havegiven him his widest public. On leaving the Palazzo, Landor acquired the Villa Gherardesca, onthe hill-side below Fiesole, and a very beautiful little estate inwhich the stream Affrico rises. Crabb Robinson, the friend of so many men of genius, who was inFlorence in 1880, in rooms at 1341 Via della Nuova Vigna, met Landorfrequently at his villa and has left his impressions. Landor hadmade up his mind to live and die in Italy, but hated the Italians. Hewould rather, he said, follow his daughter to the grave than to herwedding with an Italian husband. Talking on art, he said he preferredJohn of Bologna to Michelangelo, a statement he repeated to Emerson, but afterwards, I believe, recanted. He said also to Robinson thathe would not give 1000 Pounds for Raphael's "Transfiguration, " butten times that sum for Fra Bartolommeo's picture of S. Mark in thePitti. Next to Raphael and Fra Bartolommeo he loved Perugino. Landor soon became quite the husbandman. Writing to his sisters in1831, he says: "I have planted 200 cypresses, 600 vines, 400 roses, 200 arbutuses, and 70 bays, besides laurustinas, etc. , etc. , and60 fruit trees of the best qualities from France. I have not hada moment's illness since I resided here, nor have the children. Mywife runs after colds; it would be strange if she did not take them;but she has taken none here; hers are all from Florence. I have thebest water, the best air, and the best oil in the world. They speakhighly of the wine too; but here I doubt. In fact, I hate wine, unless hock or claret. .. . "Italy is a fine climate, but Swansea better. That however is theonly spot in Great Britain where we have warmth without wet. Still, Italy is the country I would live in. .. . In two [years] I hope tohave a hundred good peaches every day at table during two months:at present I have had as many bad ones. My land is said to producethe best figs in Tuscany; I have usually six or seven bushels of them. " I have walked through Lander's little paradise--now called the VillaLandor and reached by the narrow rugged road to the right just belowthe village of S. Domenico. Its cypresses, planted, as I imagine, by Lander's own hand, are stately as minarets and its lawn is asgreen and soft as that of an Oxford college. The orchard, in April, was a mass of blossom. Thrushes sang in the evergreens and the firstswallow of the year darted through the cypresses just as we reachedthe gates. It is truly a poet's house and garden. In 1833 a French neighbour accused Landor of robbing him of water bystopping an underground stream, and Landor naturally challenged him toa duel. The meeting was avoided through the tact of Lander's second, the English consul at Florence, and the two men became friends. At hisvilla Landor wrote much of his best prose--the "Pentameron, " "Periclesand Aspasia" and the "Trial of Shakespeare for Deer-stealing "--and hewas in the main happy, having so much planting and harvesting to do, his children to play with, and now and then a visitor. In the maintoo he managed very well with the country people, but one day wasamused to overhear a conversation over the hedge between two passingcontadini. "All the English are mad, " said one, "but as for thisone. .. !" There was a story of Landor current in Florence in thosedays which depicted him, furious with a spoiled dish, throwing hiscook out of the window, and then, realizing where he would fall, exclaiming in an agony, "Good God, I forgot the violets!" Such was Landor's impossible way on occasion that he succeeded ingetting himself exiled from Tuscany; but the Grand Duke was called inas pacificator, and, though the order of expulsion was not rescinded, it was not carried out. In 1835 Landor wrote some verses to his friend Ablett, who had lenthim the money to buy the villa, professing himself wholly happy-- Thou knowest how, and why, are dear to me My citron groves of Fiesole, My chirping Affrico, my beechwood nook, My Naiads, with feet only in the brook, Which runs away and giggles in their faces; Yet there they sit, nor sigh for other places-- but later in the year came a serious break. Landor's relations withMrs. Landor, never of such a nature as to give any sense of security, had grown steadily worse as he became more explosive, and they nowreached such a point that he flung out of the house one day and didnot return for many years, completing the action by a poem in whichhe took a final (as he thought) farewell of Italy:-- I leave thee, beauteous Italy! No more From the high terraces, at even-tide, To look supine into thy depths of sky, The golden moon between the cliff and me, Or thy dark spires of fretted cypresses Bordering the channel of the milky way. Fiesole and Valdarno must be dreams, Hereafter, and my own lost Affrico Murmur to me but the poet's song. Landor gave his son Arnold the villa, settling a sum on his wifefor the other children's maintenance, and himself returned to Bath, where he added to his friends Sir William Napier (who first founda resemblance to a lion in Landor's features), John Forster, whoafterwards wrote his life, and Charles Dickens, who named a childafter him and touched off his merrier turbulent side most charminglyas Leonard Boythom in "Bleak House". But his most constant companionwas a Pomeranian dog; in dogs indeed he found comfort all his life, right to the end. Landor's love of his villa and estate finds expression again and againin his verse written at this time. The most charming of all thesecharming poems--the perfection of the light verse of a serious poet--isthe letter from England to his youngest boy, speculating on hisItalian pursuits. I begin at the passage describing the villa's cat:-- Does Cincirillo follow thee about, Inverting one swart foot suspensively, And wagging his dread jaw at every chirp Of bird above him on the olive-branch? Frighten him then away! 'twas he who slew Our pigeons, our white pigeons peacock-tailed, That feared not you and me--alas, nor him! I flattened his striped sides along my knee, And reasoned with him on his bloody mind, Till he looked blandly, and half-closed his eyes To ponder on my lecture in the shade. I doubt his memory much, his heart a little, And in some minor matters (may I say it?) Could wish him rather sager. But from thee God hold back wisdom yet for many years! Whether in early season or in late It always comes high-priced. For thy pure breast I have no lesson; it for me has many. Come throw it open then! What sports, what cares (Since there are none too young for these) engage Thy busy thoughts? Are you again at work, Walter and you, with those sly labourers, Geppo, Giovanni, Cecco, and Poeta, To build more solidly your broken dam Among the poplars, whence the nightingale Inquisitively watch'd you all day long? I was not of your council in the scheme, Or might have saved you silver without end, And sighs too without number. Art thou gone Below the mulberry, where that cold pool Urged to devise a warmer, and more fit For mighty swimmers, swimming three abreast? Or art though panting in this summer noon Upon the lowest step before the hall, Drawing a slice of watermelon, long As Cupid's bow, athwart thy wetted lips (Like one who plays Pan's pipe), and letting drop The sable seeds from all their separate cells, And leaving bays profound and rocks abrupt, Redder than coral round Calypso's cave? In 1853 Landor put forth what he thought his last book, under the title"Last Fruit off an Old Tree". Unhappily it was not his last, for in1858 he issued yet one more, "Dry Sticks faggotted by W. S. Landor, "in which was a malicious copy of verses reflecting upon a lady. Hewas sued for libel, lost the case with heavy damages, and oncemore and for the last time left England for Florence. He was noweighty-three. At first he went to the Villa Gherardesco, then thehome of his son Arnold, but his outbursts were unbearable, and threetimes he broke away, to be three times brought back. In July, 1859, he made a fourth escape, and then escaped altogether, for Browningtook the matter in hand and established him, after a period in Siena, in lodgings in the Via Nunziatina. From this time till his death in1864 Landor may be said at last to have been at rest. He had foundsafe anchorage and never left it. Many friends came to see him, chiefamong them Browning, who was at once his adviser, his admirer and hisshrewd observer. Landor, always devoted to pictures, but without muchjudgment, now added to his collection; Browning in one of his lettersto Forster tells how he has found him "particularly delighted by theacquisition of three execrable daubs by Domenichino and Gaspar Poussinmost benevolently battered by time". Another friend says that he hada habit of attributing all his doubtful pictures to Corregoio. "Hecannot, " Browning continues, "in the least understand that he is atall wrong, or injudicious, or unfortunate in anything. .. . Whateverhe may profess, the thing he really loves is a pretty girl to talknonsense with. " Of the old man in the company of fair listeners we have glimpsesin the reminiscences of Mrs. Fields in the "Atlantic Monthly" in1866. She also describes him as in a cloud of pictures. There withhis Pomeranian Giallo within fondling distance, the poet, seated inhis arm-chair, fired comments upon everything. Giallo's opinion wasasked on all subjects, and Landor said of him that an approving wagof his tail was worth all the praise of all the "Quarterlies ". Itwas Giallo who led to the profound couplet-- He is foolish who supposes Dogs are ill that have hot noses. Mrs. Fields tells how, after some classical or fashionable music hadbeen played, Landor would come closer to the piano and ask for anold English ballad, and when "Auld Robin Gray, " his favourite of all, was sung, the tears would stream down his face. "Ah, you don't knowwhat thoughts you are recalling to the troublesome old man. " But we have Browning's word that he did not spend much time in remorseor regret, while there was the composition of the pretty little tenderepigrams of this last period to amuse him and Italian politics toenchain his sympathy. His impulsive generosity led him to give his oldand trusted watch to the funds for Garibaldi's Sicilian expedition;but Browning persuaded him to take it again. For Garibaldi's woundedprisoners he wrote an Italian dialogue between Savonarola and thePrior of S. Marco. The death of Mrs. Browning in 1861 sent Browningback to England, and Landor after that was less cheerful and rarelyleft the house. His chief solace was the novels of Anthony Trollopeand G. P. R. James. In his last year he received a visit from a youngEnglish poet and enthusiast for poetry, one Algernon Charles Swinburne, who arrived in time to have a little glowing talk with the old lion andthus obtain inspiration for some fine memorial stanzas. On September17th, 1864, Death found Landor ready--as nine years earlier he hadpromised it should-- To my ninth decade I have totter'd on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady;She who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready. Landor was buried, as we saw, in the English cemetery within the city, whither his son Arnold was borne less than seven years later. Here ishis own epitaph, one of the most perfect things in form and substancein the English language:-- I strove with none, for none was worth my strife, Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;I warmed both hands before the fire of life, It sinks, and I am ready to depart. It should be cut on his tombstone. CHAPTER XXV The Carmine and San Miniato The human form divine and waxen--Galileo--Bianca Capella--Afaithful Grand Duke--S. Spirito--The Carmine--Masaccio's placein art--Leonardo's summary--The S. Peter frescoes--The Pittiside--Romola--A little country walk--The ancient wall--The PiazzaleMichelangelo--An evening prospect--S. Miniato--Antonio Rossellino'smasterpiece--The story of S. Gualberto--A city of the dead--Thereluctant departure. The Via Maggio is now our way, but first there is a museum whichI think should be visited, if only because it gave Dickens so muchpleasure when he was here--the Museo di Storia Naturale, which isopen three days a week only and is always free. Many visitors toFlorence never even hear of it and one quickly finds that its chieffrequenters are the poor. All the better for that. Here not only isthe whole animal kingdom spread out before the eye in crowded cases, but the most wonderful collection of wax reproductions of the humanform is to be seen. These anatomical models are so numerous and soexact that, since the human body does not change with the times, a medical student could learn everything from them in the mostgentlemanly way possible. But they need a strong stomach. Mine, I confess, quailed before the end. The hero of the Museum is Galileo, whose tomb at S. Croce we have seen:here are preserved certain of his instruments in a modern, floridlydecorated Tribuna named after him. Galileo Galilei (1564-1642) belongsrather to Pisa, where he was born and where he found the Leaning Toweruseful for experiments, and to Rome, where in 1611 he demonstratedhis discovery of the telescope; but Florence is proud of him and itwas here that he died, under circumstances tragic for an astronomer, for he had become totally blind. The frescoes in the Tribuna celebrate other Italian scientifictriumphs, and in the cases are historic telescopes, astrolabes, binoculars, and other mysteries. The Via Maggio, which runs from Casa Guidi to the Ponte Trinita, andat noon is always full of school-girls, brings us by way of the ViaMichelozzo to S. Spirito, but by continuing in it we pass a house ofgreat interest, now No. 26, where once lived the famous Bianca Capella, that beautiful and magnetic Venetian whom some hold to have been sovile and others so much the victim of fate. Bianca Capella was born in1543, when Francis I, Cosimo I's eldest son, afterwards to play such apart in her life, was two years of age. While he was being brought upin Florence, Bianca was gaining loveliness in her father's palace. Whenshe was seventeen she fell in love with a young Florentine engagedin a bank in Venice, and they were secretly married. Her familywere outraged by the mésalliance and the young couple had to fleeto Florence, where they lived in poverty and hiding, a prize of 2000ducats being offered by the Capella family to anyone who would killthe husband; while, by way of showing how much in earnest they were, they had his uncle thrown into prison, where he died. One day the unhappy Bianca was sitting at her window when the youngprince Francis was passing: he looked up, saw her, and was enslaved onthe spot. (The portraits of Bianca do not, I must admit, lay emphasison this story. Titian's I have not seen; but there is one by Bronzinoin our National Gallery--No. 650--and many in Florence. ) There was, however, something in Bianca's face to which Francis fell a victim, andhe brought about a speedy meeting. At first Bianca repulsed him; butwhen she found that her husband was unworthy of her, she returned thePrince's affection. (I am telling her story from the pro-Bianca pointof view: there are plenty of narrators on the other side. ) Meanwhile, Francis's official life going on, he married that archduchess Joannaof Austria for whom the Austrian frescoes in the Palazzo Vecchio werepainted; but his heart remained Bianca's and he was more at her housethan in his own. At last, Bianca's husband being killed in some fray, she was free from the persecution of her family and ready to occupythe palace which Francis hastened to build for her, here, in the ViaMaggio, now cut up into tenements at a few lire a week. The attachmentcontinued unabated when Francis came to the throne, and upon the deathof his archduchess in 1578 Bianca and he were almost immediately, but privately, married, she being then thirty-five; and in the nextyear they were publicly married in the church of S. Lorenzo with everycircumstance of pomp; while later in the same year Bianca was crowned. Francis remained her lover till his death, which was both dramaticand suspicious, husband and wife dying within a few hours of eachother at the Medici villa of Poggia a Caiano in 1587. Historianshave not hesitated to suggest that Francis was poisoned by his wife;but there is no proof. It is indeed quite possible that her lifewas more free of intrigue, ambition and falsehood, than that of anyone about the court at that time; but the Florentines, encouraged byFrancis's brother Ferdinand I, who succeeded him, made up their mindsthat she was a witch, and few things in the way of disaster happenedthat were not laid to her charge. Call a woman a witch and everythingis possible. Ferdinand not only detested Bianca in life and deploredher fascination for his brother, but when she died he refused to allowher to be buried with the others of the family; hence the Chapel ofthe Princes at S. Lorenzo lacks one archduchess. Her grave is unknown. The whole truth we shall never know; but it is as easy to think ofBianca as a harmless woman who both lost and gained through love asto picture her as sinister and scheming. At any rate we know thatFrancis was devoted to her with a fidelity and persistence for whichGrand Dukes have not always been conspicuous. S. Spirito is one of Brunelleschi's solidest works. Within it resemblesthe city of Bologna in its vistas of brown and white arches. Theeffect is severe and splendid; but the church is to be taken ratheras architecture than a treasury of art, for although each of itseight and thirty chapels has an altar picture and several have finepieces of sculpture--one a copy of Michelangelo's famous Pieta inRome--there is nothing of the highest value. It was in this churchthat I was asked alms by one of the best-dressed men in Florence;but the Florentine beggars are not importunate: they ask, receive orare denied, and that is the end of it. The other great church in the Pitti quarter is the Carmine, and herewe are on very sacred ground in art--for it was here, as I have hadoccasion to say more than once in this book, that Masaccio paintedthose early frescoes which by their innovating boldness turned theBrancacci chapel into an Academy. For all the artists came to studyand copy them: among others Michelangelo, whose nose was broken bythe turbulent Torrigiano, a fellow-student, under this very roof. Tommaso di Ser Giovanni, or Masaccio, the son of a notary, was bornin 1402. His master is not known, but Tommaso Fini or Masolino, born in 1383, is often named. Vasari states that as a youth Masacciohelped Ghiberti with his first Baptistery doors; and if so, the factis significant. But all that is really known of his early life isthat he went to Rome to paint a chapel in S. Clemente. He returned, apparently on hearing that his patron Giovanni de' Medici was inpower again. Another friend, Brunelleschi, having built the churchof S. Spirito in 1422, Masaccio began to work there in 1423, when hewas only twenty-one. Masaccio's peculiar value in the history of painting is his earlycombined power of applying the laws of perspective and representinghuman beings "in the round". Giotto was the first and greatestinnovator in painting--the father of real painting; Masaccio was thesecond. If from Giotto's influence a stream of vigour had flowed suchas flowed from Masaccio's, there would have been nothing special tonote about Masaccio at all. But the impulse which Giotto gave to artdied down; some one had to reinvigorate it, and that some one wasMasaccio. In his remarks on painting, Leonardo da Vinci sums up theachievements of the two. They stood out, he says, from the othersof their time, by reason of their wish to go to life rather than topictures. Giotto went to life, his followers went to pictures; andthe result was a decline in art until Masaccio, who again went to life. From the Carmine frescoes came the new painting. It is not that wallshenceforth were covered more beautifully or suitably than they hadbeen by Giotto's followers; probably less suitably very often; butthat religious symbolism without much relation to actual life gaveway to scenes which might credibly have occurred, where men, womenand saints walked and talked much as we do, in similar surroundings, with backgrounds of cities that could be lived in and windows thatcould open. It was this revolution that Masaccio performed. No doubtif he had not, another would, for it had to come: the new demand wasthat religion should be reconciled with life. It is generally supposed that Masaccio had Masolino as his ally inthis wonderful series; and a vast amount of ink has been spilt overMasolino's contributions. Indeed the literature of expert art criticismon Florentine pictures alone is of alarming bulk and astonishing inits affirmations and denials. The untutored visitor in the presenceof so much scientific variance will be wise to enact the part ofthe lawyer in the old caricature of the litigants and the cow, who, while they pull, one at the head and the other at the tail, fillshis bucket with milk. In other words, the plain duty of the ordinaryperson is to enjoy the picture. Without any special knowledge of art one can, by remembering theearly date of these frescoes, realize what excitement they must havecaused in the studios and how tongues must have clacked in the OldMarket. We have but to send our thoughts to the Spanish chapel atS. Maria Novella to realize the technical advance. Masaccio, we see, was peopling a visible world; the Spanish chapel painters were merelyallegorizing, as agents of holiness. The Ghirlandaio choir in the samechurch would yield a similar comparison; but what we have to rememberis that Ghirlandaio painted these frescoes in 1490, sixty-two yearsafter Masaccio's death, and Masaccio showed him how. It is a pity that the light is so poor and that the frescoes havenot worn better; but their force and dramatic vigour remain beyonddoubt. The upper scene on the left of the altar is very powerful: theRoman tax collector has asked Christ for a tribute and Christ bidsPeter find the money in the mouth of a fish. Figures, architecture, landscape, all are in right relation; and the drama is moving, withoutrestlessness. This and the S. Peter preaching and distributing almsare perhaps the best, but the most popular undoubtedly is that belowit, finished many years after by Filippino Lippi (although there areexperts to question this and even substitute his amorous father), inwhich S. Peter, challenged by Simon Magus, resuscitates a dead boy, just as S. Zenobius used to do in the streets of this city. Certainmore modern touches, such as the exquisite Filippino would naturallyhave thought of, may be seen here: the little girl behind the boy, for instance, who recalls the children in that fresco by the samehand at S. Maria Novella in which S. John resuscitates Drusiana. Inthis Carmine fresco are many portraits of Filippino's contemporaries, including Botticelli, just as in the scene of the consecration ofthe Carmine which Masaccio painted in the cloisters, but which hasalmost perished, he introduced Brancacci, his employer, Brunelleschi, Donatello, some of whose innovating work in stone he was doing inpaint, Giovanni de' Medici and Masolino. The scanty remains of thisfresco tell us that it must have been fine indeed. Masaccio died at the early age of twenty-six, having suddenlydisappeared from Florence, leaving certain work unfinished. A strangeportentous meteor in art. The Pitti side of the river is less interesting than the other, but it has some very fascinating old and narrow streets, althoughthey are less comfortable for foreigners to wander in than those, for example, about the Borgo SS. Apostoli. They are far dirtier. From the Pitti end of the Ponte Vecchio one can obtain a most charmingwalk. Turn to the left as you leave the bridge, under the arch made byCosimo's passage, and you are in the Via de' Bardi, the backs of whosehouses on the river-side are so beautiful from the Uffizi's centralarches, as Mr. Morley's picture shows. At the end of the street isan archway under a large house. Go through this, and you are at thefoot of a steep, stone hill. It is really steep, but never mind. Takeit easily, and rest half-way where the houses on the left break andgive a wonderful view of the city. Still climbing, you come to thebest gate of all that is left--a true gate in being an inlet into afortified city--that of S. Giorgio, high on the Boboli hill by thefort. The S. Giorgio gate has a S. George killing a dragon, in stone, on its outside, and the saint painted within, Donatello's conceptionof him being followed by the artist. Parsing through, you are in thecountry. The fort and gardens are on one side and villas on the other;and a great hill-side is in front, covered with crops. Do not go on, but turn sharp to the left and follow the splendid city wall, behindwhich for a long way is the garden of the Villa Karolath, one of thechoicest spots in Florence, occasionally tossing its branches over thetop. This wall is immense all the way down to the Porta S. Miniato, and two of the old towers are still standing in their places uponit. Botticini's National Gallery picture tells exactly how they lookedin their heyday. Ivy hangs over, grass and flowers spring from theancient stones, and lizards run about. Underneath are olive-trees. It was, by the way, in the Via de' Bardi that George Eliot'sRomola lived, for she was of the Bardi family. The story, it may beremembered, begins on the morning of Lorenzo the Magnificent's death, and ends after the execution of Savonarola. It is not an inspiredromance, and is remarkable almost equally for its psychologicalomissions and the convenience of its coincidences, but it is anexcellent preparation for a first visit in youth to S. Marco and thePalazzo Vecchio, while the presence in its somewhat naive pages ofcertain Florentine characters makes it agreeable to those who knowsomething of the city and its history. The painter Piero di Cosimo, for example, is here, straight from Vasari; so also are Cronaca, thearchitect, Savonarola, Capparo, the ironsmith, and even Machiavelli;while Bernardo del Nero, the gonfalonier, whose death sentenceSavonarola refused to revise, was Romola's godfather. The Via Guicciardini, which runs from the foot of the Via de' Bardito the Pitti, is one of the narrowest and busiest Florentine streets, with an undue proportion of fruit shops overflowing to the pavementto give it gay colouring. At No. 24 is a stable with pillars andarches that would hold up a pyramid. But this is no better than mostof the old stables of Florence, which are all solid vaulted cavernsof immense size and strength. From the Porta Romana one may do many things--take the tram, for example, for the Certosa of the Val d'Ema, which is only sometwenty minutes distant, or make a longer journey to Impruneta, wherethe della Robbias are. But just now let us walk or ride up the longwinding Viale Macchiavelli, which curves among the villas behind theBoboli Gardens, to the Piazzale Michelangelo and S. Miniato. The Piazzale Michelangelo is one of the few modern tributes of Florenceto her illustrious makers. The Dante memorial opposite S. Croce isanother, together with the preservation of certain buildings withDante associations in the heart of the city; but, as I have said morethan once, there is no piazza in Florence, and only one new street, named after a Medici. From the Piazzale Michelangelo you not onlyhave a fine panoramic view of the city of this great man--in itsprincipal features not so vastly different from the Florence of hisday, although of course larger and with certain modern additions, such as factory chimneys, railway lines, and so forth--but you can seethe remains of the fortifications which he constructed in 1529, andwhich kept the Imperial troops at bay for nearly a year. Just acrossthe river rises S. Croce, where the great man is buried, and beyond, over the red roofs, the dome of the Medici chapel at S. Lorenzo showsus the position of the Biblioteca Laurenziana and the New Sacristy, both built by him. Immediately below us is the church of S. Niccolo, where he is said to have hidden in 1529, when there was a hue andcry for him. In the middle of this spacious plateau is a bronzereproduction of his David, and it is good to see it, from the cafebehind it, rising head and shoulders above the highest Apennines. S. Miniato, the church on the hill-top above the Piazzale Michelangelo, deserves many visits. One may not be too greatly attached to marblefaçades, but this little temple defeats all prejudices by its radianceand perfection, and to its extraordinary charm its situation adds. Itcrowns the hill, and in the late afternoon--the ideal time to visitit--is full in the eye of the sun, bathed in whose light the greenand white façade, with miracles of delicate intarsia, is balm to theeyes instead of being, as marble so often is, dazzling and cold. On the way up we pass the fine church of S. Salvatore, which Cronacaof the Palazzo Vecchio and Palazzo Strozzi built and Michelangeloadmired, and which is now secularized, and pass through the gateway ofMichelangelo's upper fortifications. S. Miniato is one of the oldestchurches of Florence, some of it eleventh century. It has its namefrom Minias, a Roman soldier who suffered martyrdom at Florence underDecius. Within, one does not feel quite to be in a Christian church, the effect partly of the unusual colouring, all grey, green, and goldand soft light tints as of birds' bosoms; partly of the ceiling, which has the bright hues of a Russian toy; partly of the forestof great gay columns; partly of the lovely and so richly decoratedmarble screen; and partly of the absence of a transept. The prevailingfeeling indeed is gentle gaiety; and in the crypt this is intensified, for it is just a joyful assemblage of dancing arches. The church as a whole is beautiful and memorable enough; butits details are wonderful too, from the niello pavement, andthe translucent marble windows of the apse, to the famous tomb ofCardinal Jacopo of Portugal, and the Luca della Robbia reliefs of theVirtues. This tomb is by Antonio Rossellino. It is not quite of therank of Mino's in the Badia; but it is a noble and beautiful thingmarked in every inch of it by modest and exquisite thought. Vasarisays of Antonio that he "practised his art with such grace thathe was valued as something more than a man by those who knew him, who well-nigh adored him as a saint". Facing it is a delightfulAnnunciation by Alessio Baldovinetti, in which the angel declares thenews from a far greater distance than we are accustomed to; and theceiling is made an abode of gladness by the blue and white figures(designed by Luca della Robbia) of Prudence and Chastity, Moderationand Fortitude, for all of which qualities, it seems, the Cardinal wasfamous. In short, one cannot be too glad that, since he had to die, death's dart struck down this Portuguese prelate while he was inRossellino's and Luca's city. No longer is preserved here the miraculous crucifix which, standingin a little chapel in the wood on this spot, bestowed blessing andpardon--by bending towards him--upon S. Giovanni Gualberto, the founderof the Vallombrosan order. The crucifix is now in S. Trinita. The saintwas born in 985 of noble stock and assumed naturally the splendour andarrogance of his kind. His brother Hugo being murdered in some affray, Giovanni took upon himself the duty of avenging the crime. One GoodFriday he chanced to meet, near this place, the assassin, in so narrowa passage as to preclude any chance of escape; and he was about to killhim when the man fell on his knees and implored mercy by the passion ofChrist Who suffered on that very day, adding that Christ had prayed onthe cross for His own murderers. Giovanni was so much impressed that henot only forgave the man but offered him his friendship. Entering thenthe chapel to pray and ask forgiveness of all his sins, he was amazedto see the crucifix bend down as though acquiescing and blessing, andthis special mark of favour so wrought upon him that he became a monk, himself shaving his head for that purpose and defying his father'srage, and subsequently founded the Vallombrosan order. He died in 1073. I have said something of the S. Croce habit and the S. Maria Novellahabit; but I think that when all is said the S. Miniato habit isthe most important to acquire. There is nothing else like it; andthe sense of height is so invigorating too. At all times of the yearit is beautiful; but perhaps best in early spring, when the highestmountains still have snow upon them and the neighbouring slopes arecovered with tender green and white fruit blossom, and here the violetwistaria blooms and there the sombre crimson of the Judas-tree. Behind and beside the church is a crowded city of the Florentinedead, reproducing to some extent the city of the Florentine living, in its closely packed habitations--the detached palaces for the richand the great congeries of cells for the poor--more of which arebeing built all the time. There is a certain melancholy interest inwandering through these silent streets, peering through the windowsand recognizing over the vaults names famous in Florence. One learnsquickly how bad modern mortuary architecture and sculpture can be, but I noticed one monument with some sincerity and unaffected grace:that to a charitable Marchesa, a friend of the poor, at the foot ofwhose pedestal are a girl and baby done simply and well. Better perhaps to remain on the highest point and look at thecity beneath. One should try to be there before sunset and watchthe Apennines turning to a deeper and deeper indigo and the citygrowing dimmer and dimmer in the dusk. Florence is beautiful fromevery point of vantage, but from none more beautiful than from thiseminence. As one reluctantly leaves the church and passes againthrough Michelangelo's fortification gateway to descend, one has, framed in its portal, a final lovely Apennine scene. Historical Chart of Florence and Europe, 1296-1564 Artists' Dates. 1300 (c. ) Taddeo Gaddi born (d. 1366)1302 (c. ) Cimabue died (b. C. 1240)1308 (c. ) Andrea Orcagna born (d. 1368)1310 Arnolfo di Cambio died (b. 1232 ?)1333 Spinello Aretino born (d. 1410)1336 Giotto died (b. 1276 ?)1344 Simone Martini died (b. 1283)1348 Andrea Pisano died (b. 1270)1356 Lippo Memmi died1366 Taddeo Gaddi died (b. C. 1300)1368 Andrea Orcagna died1370 (c. ) Lorenzo Monaco born (d. 1425) Gentile da Fabriano born (d. 1450)1371 Jacopo della Quercia born (d. 1438)1377 Filippo Brunelleschi born (d. 1446)1378 Lorenzo Ghiberti born (d. 1455)1386 (?) Donatello born (d. 1466)1387 Fra Angelico born (d. 1455)1391 Michelozzo born (d. 1472)1396 (?) Andrea del Castagno born (d. 1457)1397 Paolo Uccello born (d. 1475)1399 or 1400 Luca della Robbia born (d. 1482)1401 or 1402 Masaccio born (d. 1428?)1405 Leon Battista Alberti born (d. 1472)1406 Lippo Lippi born (d. 1469)1409 Bernardo Rossellino born (d. 1464)1410 Spinello Aretino died1415 Piero della Francesca born (d. 1492)1420 Benozzo Gozzoli born (d. 1498)1425 Il Monaco died Alessio Baldovinetti born (d. 1499)1427 Antonio Rossellino born (d. 1478)1428 (?) Masaccio died1428 Desiderio da Settignano born (d. 1464)1429 (?) Giovanni Bellini born (d. 1516) Antonio Pollaiuolo born (d. 1498)1430 Cosimo Tura died1431 Andrea Mantegna born (d. 1506)1432 (?) Mina da Fiesole born (d. 1484)1435 Andrea Verrocchio born (d. 1488) Andrea della Robbia born (d. 1525)1438 Melozzo da Forli born (d. 1494)1439 Cosimo Rosselli born (d. 1507)1441 Luca Signorelli born (d. 1523)1442 Benedetto da Maiano born (d. 1497)1444 Sandro Botticelli born (d. 1510)1446 Brunelleschi died Perugino born (d. 1523 or 24) Francesco Botticini born (d. 1498)1449 Domenico Ghirlandaio born (d. 1494)1450 Gentile da Fabriano died1452 Leonardi da Vinci born (d. 1519)1455 Ghiberti died Fra Angelico died1456 Lorenzo di Credi born (d. 1537)1457 Cronaca born (d. 1508 or 9) Filippino Lippi born (d. 1504) Andrea del Castagno died1462 Piero di Cosimo born (d. 1521)1463 or 4 Desiderio da Settignano died1464 Bernardo Rossellino died1466 Donatello died1469 Giovanni della Robbia born (d. 1529) Lippo Lippi died1472 Michelozzo died Alberti died1474 Benedetto da Rovezzano born (d. 1556) Rustici born (d. 1554) Mariotto Albertinelli born (d. 1515)1475 Fra Bartolommeo born (d. 1517) Michelangelo Buonarroti born (d. 1564)1477 Titian born (d. 1576) Giorgione born (d. 1510)1478 Antonio Rossellino died1482 Francia Bigio born (d. 1523) Guicciardini born (d. 1540)1483 Raphael born (d. 1520) Ridolfo Ghirlandaio born (d. 1561)1484 Mino da Fiesole died1485 Sebastiano del Piombo born (d. 1547)1486 Jacopo Sansovino born (d. 1570)1486 or 7 Andrea del Sarto born (d. 1531)1488 Verrocchio died Baccio Bandinelli born (d. 1560)1492 Piero della Francesco died1494 Jacopo da Pontormo born (d. 1556) Correggio born (d. 1534) Domenico Ghirlandaio died Melozzo da Forli died1497 Benedetto da Maiano died Benozzo Gozzoli died1498 Antonio Pollaiuolo died Francesco Botticini died1499 Alessio Baldovinetti died1500 Benvenuto Cellini born (d. 1572)1502 Angelo Bronzino born (d. 1572)1504 Filippino Lippi died1506 Mantegna died1507 Cosimo Rosselli died1508 Cronaca died1510 Botticelli died Giorgione died1511 Vasari born (d. 1574)1515 Albertinelli died1516 Giovanni Bellini died1517 Fra Bartolommeo died1518 Tintoretto born (d. 1594)1519 Leonardo da Vinci died1520 Raphael died1521 Piero di Cosimo died1523 Signorelli died Perugino died1524 Giovanni da Bologna born (d. 1608)1525 Andrea della Robbia died Francia Bigio died1528 Paolo Veronese born (d. 1588) Federigo Baroccio born (d. 1612)1529 Giovanni della Robbia died1531 Andrea del Sarto died1534 Correggio died1537 Credi died1547 Sebastiano del Piombo died1554 Rustici died1556 Pontormo died Benedetto da Rovezzano died1560 Baccio Bandinelli died1561 Ridolfo Ghirlandaio died1564 Michael Angelo died Some Important Florentine Dates 1296 Foundations of the Duomo consecrated1298 Palazzo Vecchio commenced by Arnolfo di Cambio1300 Beginning of the feuds of the Bianchi and Xeri Guido Cavalcanti died1302 Dante exiled, Jan. 271304 Petrarch born (d. 1374)1308 Death of Corso Donati1312 Siege of Florence by Henry VII1313 Boccaccio born (d. 1375)1321 Dante died Sept. 14 (b. 1265)1333 Destructive floods1334 Foundations of the Campanile laid1337 Or San Michele begun1339 Andrea Pisano's gates finished1348 Black Death of the Decameron Giovanni Villani died (b. 1275 c. )1360 Giovanni de' Medici (di Bicci) born1365 (c) Ponte Vecchio rebuilt by Taddeo Gaddi1374 Petrarch died1375 Boccaccio died1376 Loggia de' Lanzi commenced1378 Salvestro de' Medici elected Gonfaloniere1389 Cosimo de' Medici (Pater Patrise) born1390 War with Milan1394 Sir John Hawkwood died1399 Competition for Baptistery Gates1416 Piero de' Medici (il Gottoso) born1421 Purchase of Leghorn by Florence Giovanni de' Medici elected Gonfaloniere Spedale degli Innocenti commenced1424 Ghiberti's first gate set up1429 Giovanni de' Medici died1432 Niccolo da Uzzano died1433 Marsilio Ficino born Cosimo de' Medici banished, Oct. 31434 Cosimo returned to power, Sept. 29 Banishment of Albizzi and Strozzi1435 Francesco Sforza visited Florence1436 Brunelleschi's dome completed The Duomo consecrated1439 Council of Florence Gemisthos Plethon in Florence1440 Cosimo occupied the Medici Palace1449 Lorenzo de' Medici (the Magnificent born)1452 Ghiberti's second gates set up Savonarola born1454 Politian born1463 Pico della Mirandola born1464 Cosimo de' Medici died and was succeeded by Piero1466 Luca Pitti's Conspiracy1469 Lorenzo's Tournament, Feb. Lorenzo's Marriage to Clarice Orsini, June Death of Piero, Dec. Niccolò Machiavelli born1471 Piero de' Medici, son of Lorenzo, born Visit of Galeazzo Sforza to Florence Cennini's Press established in Florence1474 Ariosto born1475 Giuliano's Tournament1478 Pazzi Conspiracy Giuliano murdered1479 Lorenzo's Mission to Naples1492 Lorenzo the Magnificent died Piero succeeded1494 Charles VIII invaded Italy Piero banished Charles VIII in Florence. Sack of Medici Palace Florence governed by General Council Savonarola in power Politian died Pico della Mirandola died1497 Francesco Valori elected Gonfaloniere Piero attempted to return to Florence1498 Savonarola burnt1499 Marsilio Ficino died Amerigo Vespucci reached America1503 Death of Piero di Medici1512 Cardinal Giovanni and Giuliano, Duke of Nemours, reinstated in Florence Great Council abolished1519 Cardinal Giulio de' Medici in power Catherine de' Medici born1524 Ippolito and Alessandro de' Medici in power1526 Death of Giovanni delle Bande Nere1527 Ippolito and Alessandro left Florence1528 Machiavelli died1529-30 Siege of Florence1530 Capitulation of Florence1531 Alessandro de' Medici declared Head of Republic1537 Cosimo de' Medici made Ruler of Florence Battle of Montemurlo Lorenzino assassinated in Venice1539 Cosimo married Eleanor di Toledo and moved to Palazzo Vecchio1553 Cosimo occupied the Pitti Palace1564 Galileo Galilei born Popes. Boniface VIII1303 Benedict XI1305 Clement V1316 John XXII1334 Benedict XII1337 Boniface VIII1342 Clement VI1352 Innocent VI1362 Urban V1370 Gregory XI1378 Urban VI1389 Boniface IX1404 Innocent VII1406 Gregory XII1409 Alex. V1410 John XXIII1417 Martin V1431 Eugenius IV1447 Nicolas V1455 Calixtus III1458 Pius II1464 Paul II1471 Sixtus IV1484 Innocent VIII1492 Alex. VI1503 Pius III Julius II1513 Leo X1522 Hadrian VI1523 Clement VII1534 Paul III1550 Julius III1555 Marcellus II Paul IV1559 Pius IV French Kings. Philip IV1314 Louis X1316 John I Philip V1322 Charles IV1328 Philip VI Philip1350 John II1364 Charles V1380 Charles VI1422 Charles VII1461 Louis XI1483 Charles VIII1498 Louis XII1515 Francis I1547 Henry II1559 Francis II1560 Charles IX English Kings. Edward I1307 Edward II1327 Edward III1377 Richard II1422 Charles VII1461 Edward IV1483 Edward V Richard III1485 Henry VII1509 Henry VIII1547 Edward VI1553 Mary1558 Elizabeth Milan. 1310 Matteo Visconti1322 Galeazzo Visconti13281329 Azzo Visconti1339 Luchino and Giovanni Visconti1349 Giovanni Visconti1354 Matteó Bernabò Galeazzo1378 Gian Galeazzo Visconti1402 Gian Maria Visconti1412 Filippo Maria Visconti1447. .. 1450 Francesco Sforza1466 Galeazzo Sforza1476 Gian Galeazzo Sforza (Ludovico Sforza Regent)1495 Ludovico Sforza1499 Ludovico exiled Some Important General Dates 1298 Battle of Falkirk1306 Coronation of Bruce1314 Battle of Bannockburn1324 (?) John Wyclif born1337 Froissart born (d. 1410?)1339 Beginning of the Hundred Years' War1346 Battle of Crécy1347 Rienzi made Tribune of Rome Edward III took Calais1348-9 Black Death in England1348 S. Catherine of Siena born1356 Battle of Poictiers1362 First draft of Piers Plowman1379 Thomas à Kempis born1381 Wat Tyler's Rebellion1400 Geoffrey Chaucer died1414 Council of Constance1428 Siege of Orléans1431 Joan of Arc burnt1435 (c. ) Hans Meinling born1450 John Gutenburg printed at Mainz Jack Cade's Insurrection1453 Fall of Constantinople1455 Beginning of the Wars of the Roses1467 Erasmus born (d. 1528)1470 (c. ) Mabuse born (d. 1555)1471 Albert Dürer born (d. 1528) Caxton's Press established in Westminster1476 Chevalier Bayard born1482 Hugo van der Goes died1483 Rabelais born (d. 1553) Martin Luther born Murder of the Princes in the Tower1491 Ignatius Loyola born1492 America discovered by Christopher Columbus1494 Lucas van Leyden born (d. 1533)1505 John Knox born (d. 1582)1509 Calvin born1516 More's Utopia published1519 First Voyage round the world (Ferd. Magellan)1519-21 Conquest of Mexico1520 Field of the Cloth of Gold1527 Brantôme born (d. 1614)1528 Albert Dürer died1531-2 Conquest of Peru1533 Montaigne born (d. 1592)1535 Henry VIII became Supreme Head of the Church1537 Sack of Rome1544 Torquato Tasso born1553 Edmund Spenser born1554 Execution of Lady Jane Grey Sir Philip Sidney born1555-6 Ridley, Latimer, Cranmer burnt1558 Calais recaptured by the French1564 Shakespeare born NOTES [1] One of Brunelleschi's devices to bring before the authoritiesan idea of the dome he projected, was of standing an egg on end, as Columbus is famed for doing, fully twenty years before Columbuswas born. [2] It was Charles V who said of Giotto's Campanile that it ought tobe kept in a glass case. [3] Hence its new name: Loggia de' Lanzi. [4] In the Victoria and Albert Museum at South Kensington are castsof the two Medici on the tombs and also the Madonna and Child. Theyare in the great gallery of the casts, together with the great David, two of the Julian tomb prisoners, the Bargello tondo and the Brutus. [5] Cacus, the son of Vulcan and Medusa, was a famous robber whobreathed fire and smoke and laid waste Italy. He made the mistake, however, of robbing Hercules of some cows, and for this Herculesstrangled him. [6] "Thick as leaves in Vallombrosa" has come to be the form ofwords as most people quote them. But Milton wrote ("Paradise Lost, "Book I. 300-304):-- "He called His legions, angel-forms, who lay entranced Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks In Vallombrosa where the Etrurian shades, High over-arched, embower. " Wordsworth, by the way, when he visited Vallombrosa with Crabb Robinsonin 1837, wrote an inferior poem there, in a rather common metre, in honour of Milton's association with it. [7] 27 April, 1859, the day that the war with Austria was proclaimed. [8] In "A Dictionary of Saintly Women". [9] The position of easel pictures in the Florentine galleries oftenchanges.