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  The Story of Florence




  All rights reserved

  First Edition, September 1900.
  Second Edition, December 1900.

  [Illustration: _Pallas taming a Centaur, by Botticelli._
  (THE TRIUMPH OF LORENZO.)]




  The Story of Florence

  by Edmund G. Gardner

  Illustrated by Nelly Erichsen

  London: J. M. Dent & Co.
  Aldine House, 29 and 30 Bedford Street
  Covent Garden W.C.   1900




  To
  MY SISTER
  MONICA MARY GARDNER




PREFACE


The present volume is intended to supply a popular history of the
Florentine Republic, in such a form that it can also be used as a
guide-book. It has been my endeavour, while keeping within the
necessary limits of this series of _Mediæval Towns_, to point out
briefly the most salient features in the story of Florence, to tell
again the tale of those of her streets and buildings, and indicate
those of her artistic treasures, which are either most intimately
connected with that story or most beautiful in themselves. Those who
know best what an intensely fascinating and many-sided history that of
Florence has been, who have studied most closely the work and
characters of those strange and wonderful personalities who have lived
within (and, in the case of the greatest, died without) her walls,
will best appreciate my difficulty in compressing even a portion of
all this wealth and profusion into the narrow bounds enjoined by the
aim and scope of this book. Much has necessarily been curtailed over
which it would have been tempting to linger, much inevitably omitted
which the historian could not have passed over, nor the compiler of a
guide-book failed to mention. In what I have selected for treatment
and what omitted, I have usually let myself be guided by the
remembrance of my own needs when I first commenced to visit Florence
and to study her arts and history.

It is needless to say that the number of books, old and new, is very
considerable indeed, to which anyone venturing in these days to write
yet another book on Florence must have had recourse, and to whose
authors he is bound to be indebted--from the earliest Florentine
chroniclers down to the most recent biographers of Lorenzo the
Magnificent, of Savonarola, of Michelangelo--from Vasari down to our
modern scientific art critics--from Richa and Moreni down to the
Misses Horner. My obligations can hardly be acknowledged here in
detail; but, to mention a few modern works alone, I am most largely
indebted to Capponi's _Storia della Repubblica di Firenze_, to various
writings of Professor Pasquale Villari, and to Mr Armstrong's _Lorenzo
de' Medici_; to the works of Ruskin and J. A. Symonds, of M. Reymond
and Mr Berenson; and, in the domains of topography, to Baedeker's
_Hand Book_. In judging of the merits and the authorship of individual
pictures and statues, I have usually given more weight to the results
of modern criticism than to the pleasantness of old tradition.

Carlyle's translation of the _Inferno_ and Mr Wicksteed's of the
_Paradiso_ are usually quoted.

If this little book should be found helpful in initiating the
English-speaking visitor to the City of Flowers into more of the
historical atmosphere of Florence and her monuments than guide-books
and catalogues can supply, it will amply have fulfilled its object.

  E. G. G.

  ROEHAMPTON, May 1900.




CONTENTS


     CHAPTER I                                             PAGE

     _The Commune and People of Florence_                     1

     CHAPTER II

     _The Times of Dante and Boccaccio_                      32

     CHAPTER III

     _The Medici and the Quattrocento_                       71

     CHAPTER IV

     _From Fra Girolamo to Duke Cosimo_                     111

     CHAPTER V

     _The Palazzo Vecchio--The Piazza della Signoria--The
     Uffizi_                                                146

     CHAPTER VI

     _Or San Michele and the Sesto di San Piero_            184

     CHAPTER VII

     _From the Bargello past Santa Croce_                   214

     CHAPTER VIII

     _The Baptistery, the Campanile, and the Duomo_         246

     CHAPTER IX

     _The Palazzo Riccardi--San Lorenzo--San
     Marco_                                                 283

     CHAPTER X

     _The Accademia delle Belle Arti--The Santissima
     Annunziata, and other Buildings_                       314

     CHAPTER XI

     _The Bridges--The Quarter of Santa Maria
     Novella_                                               340

     CHAPTER XII

     _Across the Arno_                                      374

     CHAPTER XIII

     _Conclusion_                                           409

       *       *       *       *       *

     _Genealogical Table of the Medici_                     423

     _Chronological Index of Architects, Sculptors and
     Painters_                                              424

     _General Index_                                        430




ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                           PAGE

     _Pallas taming a Centaur (Photogravure)_[1]   Frontispiece

     _Florence from the Boboli Gardens_                       3

     _The Buondelmonte Tower_                                20

     _The Palace of the Parte Guelfa_                        29

     _Arms of Parte Guelfa_                                  31

     _Florentine Families_                                   33

     _Corso Donati's Tower_                                  40

     _Across the Ponte Vecchio_                              47

     _Mercato Nuovo, the Flower Market_                      51

     _The Campanile_                                         63

     _Cross of the Florentine People_                        70

     _Florence in the Days of Lorenzo the Magnificent_       80

     _The Badia of Fiesole_                                  83

     "_In the Sculptor's Work-shop_" (_Nanni di
       Banco_)                                               97

     _Arms of the Pazzi_                                    110

     _The Death of Savonarola_                              135

     "_The Dawn_" (_Michelangelo_)                          144

     _The Palazzo Vecchio_                                  147

     _Looking through Vasari's Loggia, Uffizi_              161

     "_Venus_" (_Sandro Botticelli_)                        178

     _Orcagna's Tabernacle, Or San Michele_                 185

     _Window of Or San Michele_                             191

     _Tower of the Arte della Lana_                         201

     _House of Dante_                                       207

     _Arms of the Sesto di San Piero_                       213

     _Bargello Courtyard and Staircase_                     217

     _Santa Croce_                                          233

     _Old Houses on the Arno_                               245

     _The Baptistery_                                       251

     _The Bigallo_                                          264

     _Porta della Mandorla, Duomo_                          267

     _Statue of Boniface VIII_                              270

     _Arms of the Medici from the Badia at Fiesole_         283

     _Tomb of Giovanni and Piero dei Medici_                288

     _The Well of S. Marco_                                 299

     _The Cloister of the Innocenti_                        331

     _A Florentine Suburb_                                  337

     _The Ponte Vecchio_                                    343

     _The Tower of S. Zanobi_                               347

     _Arms of the Strozzi_                                  353

     _In the Green Cloisters, S. Maria Novella_             357

     _In the Boboli Gardens_                                374

     _The Fortifications of Michelangelo_                   399

     _Porta San Giorgio_                                    403

     _Map of Florence                               facing_ 422

  [1] "_The Frontispiece and the Illustrations facing pages 97, 135,
  144, 178 and 288 are reproduced, by permission, from photographs by
  Messrs Alinari of Florence._"




The Story of Florence




CHAPTER I

_The People and Commune of Florence_

     "La bellissima e famosissima figlia di Roma, Fiorenza."
         --_Dante._


Before the imagination of a thirteenth century poet, one of the
sweetest singers of the _dolce stil novo_, there rose a phantasy of a
transfigured city, transformed into a capital of Fairyland, with his
lady and himself as fairy queen and king:

     "Amor, eo chero mea donna in domino,
       l'Arno balsamo fino,
       le mura di Fiorenza inargentate,
     le rughe di cristallo lastricate,
       fortezze alte e merlate,
       mio fedel fosse ciaschedun Latino."[2]

  [2] "Love, I demand to have my lady in fee,
        Fine balm let Arno be,
      The walls of Florence all of silver rear'd,
      And crystal pavements in the public way;
        With castles make me fear'd,
      Till every Latin soul have owned my sway."
          --LAPO GIANNI (_Rossetti_).

But is not the reality even more beautiful than the dreamland Florence
of Lapo Gianni's fancy? We stand on the heights of San Miniato, either
in front of the Basilica itself or lower down in the Piazzale
Michelangelo. Below us, on either bank of the silvery Arno, lies
outstretched Dante's "most famous and most beauteous daughter of
Rome," once the Queen of Etruria and centre of the most wonderful
culture that the world has known since Athens, later the first capital
of United Italy, and still, though shorn of much of her former
splendour and beauty, one of the loveliest cities of Christendom.
Opposite to us, to the north, rises the hill upon which stands
Etruscan Fiesole, from which the people of Florence originally came:
"that ungrateful and malignant people," Dante once called them, "who
of old came down from Fiesole." Behind us stand the fortifications
which mark the death of the Republic, thrown up or at least
strengthened by Michelangelo in the city's last agony, when she barred
her gates and defied the united power of Pope and Emperor to take the
State that had once chosen Christ for her king.

     "O foster-nurse of man's abandoned glory
       Since Athens, its great mother, sunk in splendour;
     Thou shadowest forth that mighty shape in story,
       As ocean its wrecked fanes, severe yet tender:
     The light-invested angel Poesy
       Was drawn from the dim world to welcome thee.

     "And thou in painting didst transcribe all taught
       By loftiest meditations; marble knew
     The sculptor's fearless soul--and as he wrought,
       The grace of his own power and freedom grew."

Between Fiesole and San Miniato, then, the story of the Florentine
Republic may be said to be written.

The beginnings of Florence are lost in cloudy legend, and her early
chroniclers on the slenderest foundations have reared for her an
unsubstantial, if imposing, fabric of fables--the tales which the
women of old Florence, in the _Paradiso_, told to their house-holds--

     "dei Troiani, di Fiesole, e di Roma."

  [Illustration: FLORENCE FROM THE BOBOLI GARDENS]

Setting aside the Trojans ("Priam" was mediæval for "Adam," as a
modern novelist has remarked), there is no doubt that both Etruscan
Fiesole and Imperial Rome united to found the "great city on the banks
of the Arno." Fiesole or Faesulae upon its hill was an important
Etruscan city, and a place of consequence in the days of the Roman
Republic; fallen though it now is, traces of its old greatness remain.
Behind the Romanesque cathedral are considerable remains of Etruscan
walls and of a Roman theatre. Opposite it to the west we may ascend to
enjoy the glorious view from the Convent of the Franciscans, where
once the old citadel of Faesulae stood. Faesulae was ever the centre
of Italian and democratic discontent against Rome and her Senate
(_sempre ribelli di Roma_, says Villani of its inhabitants); and it
was here, in October B.C. 62, that Caius Manlius planted the Eagle of
revolt--an eagle which Marius had borne in the war against the
Cimbri--and thus commenced the Catilinarian war, which resulted in the
annihilation of Catiline's army near Pistoia.

This, according to Villani, was the origin of Florence. According to
him, Fiesole, after enduring the stupendous siege, was forced to
surrender to the Romans under Julius Cæsar, and utterly razed to the
ground. In the second sphere of Paradise, Justinian reminds Dante of
how the Roman Eagle "seemed bitter to that hill beneath which thou
wast born." Then, in order that Fiesole might never raise its head
again, the Senate ordained that the greatest lords of Rome, who had
been at the siege, should join with Cæsar in building a new city on
the banks of the Arno. Florence, thus founded by Cæsar, was populated
by the noblest citizens of Rome, who received into their number those
of the inhabitants of fallen Fiesole who wished to live there. "Note
then," says the old chronicler, "that it is not wonderful that the
Florentines are always at war and in dissensions among themselves,
being drawn and born from two peoples, so contrary and hostile and
diverse in habits, as were the noble and virtuous Romans, and the
savage and contentious folk of Fiesole." Dante similarly, in Canto XV.
of the _Inferno_, ascribes the injustice of the Florentines towards
himself to this mingling of the people of Fiesole with the true Roman
nobility (with special reference, however, to the union of Florence
with conquered Fiesole in the twelfth century):--

                  "che tra li lazzi sorbi
     si disconvien fruttare al dolce fico."[3]

  [3] "For amongst the tart sorbs, it befits not the sweet fig to
  fructify."

And Brunetto Latini bids him keep himself free from their pollution:--

     "Faccian le bestie Fiesolane strame
       di lor medesme, e non tocchin la pianta,
       s'alcuna surge ancor nel lor letame,
     in cui riviva la semente santa
       di quei Roman che vi rimaser quando
       fu fatto il nido di malizia tanta." [4]

  [4] "Let the beasts of Fiesole make litter of themselves, and not
  touch the plant, if any yet springs up amid their rankness, in which
  the holy seed revives of those Romans who remained there when it
  became the nest of so much malice."

The truth appears to be that Florence was originally founded by
Etruscans from Fiesole, who came down from their mountain to the plain
by the Arno for commercial purposes. This Etruscan colony was probably
destroyed during the wars between Marius and Sulla, and a Roman
military colony established here--probably in the time of Sulla, and
augmented later by Cæsar and by Augustus. It has, indeed, been urged
of late that the old Florentine story has some truth in it, and that
Cæsar, not only in legend but in fact, may be regarded as the true
first founder of Florence. Thus the Roman colony of Florentia
gradually grew into a little city--_come una altra piccola Roma_,
declares her patriotic chronicler. It had its capitol and its forum in
the centre of the city, where the Mercato Vecchio once stood; it had
an amphitheatre outside the walls, somewhere near where the Borgo dei
Greci and the Piazza Peruzzi are to-day. It had baths and temples,
though doubtless on a small scale. It had the shape and form of a
Roman camp, which (together with the Roman walls in which it was
inclosed) it may be said to have retained down to the middle of the
twelfth century, in spite of legendary demolitions by Attila and
Totila, and equally legendary reconstructions by Charlemagne. Above
all, it had a grand temple to Mars, which almost certainly occupied
the site of the present Baptistery, if not actually identical with it.
Giovanni Villani tells us--and we shall have to return to his
statement--that the wonderful octagonal building, now known as the
Baptistery or the Church of St John, was consecrated as a temple by
the Romans in honour of Mars, for their victory over the Fiesolans,
and that Mars was the patron of the Florentines as long as paganism
lasted. Round the equestrian statue that was supposed to have once
stood in the midst of this temple, numberless legends have gathered.
Dante refers to it again and again. In Santa Maria Novella you shall
see how a great painter of the early Renaissance, Filippino Lippi,
conceived of his city's first patron. When Florence changed him for
the Baptist, and the people of Mars became the sheepfold of St John,
this statue was removed from the temple and set upon a tower by the
side of the Arno:--

"The Florentines took up their idol which they called the God Mars,
and set him upon a high tower near the river Arno; and they would not
break or shatter it, seeing that in their ancient records they found
that the said idol of Mars had been consecrated under the ascendency
of such a planet, that if it should be broken or put in a
dishonourable place, the city would suffer danger and damage and great
mutation. And although the Florentines had newly become Christians,
they still retained many customs of paganism, and retained them for a
long time; and they greatly feared their ancient idol of Mars; so
little perfect were they as yet in the Holy Faith."

This tower is said to have been destroyed like the rest of Florence by
the Goths, the statue falling into the Arno, where it lurked in hiding
all the time that the city lay in ruins. On the legendary rebuilding
of Florence by Charlemagne, the statue, too--or rather the mutilated
fragment that remained--was restored to light and honour. Thus
Villani:--

"It is said that the ancients held the opinion that there was no power
to rebuild the city, if that marble image, consecrated by necromancy
to Mars by the first Pagan builders, was not first found again and
drawn out of the Arno, in which it had been from the destruction of
Florence down to that time. And, when found, they set it upon a pillar
on the bank of the said river, where is now the head of the Ponte
Vecchio. This we neither affirm nor believe, inasmuch as it appeareth
to us to be the opinion of augurers and pagans, and not reasonable,
but great folly, to hold that a statue so made could work thus; but
commonly it was said by the ancients that, if it were changed, our
city would needs suffer great mutation."

Thus it became _quella pietra scema che guarda il ponte_, in Dantesque
phrase; and we shall see what terrible sacrifice its clients
unconsciously paid to it. Here it remained, much honoured by the
Florentines; street boys were solemnly warned of the fearful
judgments that fell on all who dared to throw mud or stones at it;
until at last, in 1333, a great flood carried away bridge and statue
alike, and it was seen no more. It has recently been suggested that
the statue was, in reality, an equestrian monument in honour of some
barbaric king, belonging to the fifth or sixth century.

Florence, however, seems to have been--in spite of Villani's
describing it as the Chamber of the Empire and the like--a place of
very slight importance under the Empire. Tacitus mentions that a
deputation was sent from Florentia to Tiberius to prevent the Chiana
being turned into the Arno. Christianity is said to have been first
introduced in the days of Nero; the Decian persecution raged here as
elsewhere, and the soil was hallowed with the blood of the martyr,
Miniatus. Christian worship is said to have been first offered up on
the hill where a stately eleventh century Basilica now bears his name.
When the greater peace of the Church was established under
Constantine, a church dedicated to the Baptist on the site of the
Martian temple and a basilica outside the walls, where now stands San
Lorenzo, were among the earliest churches in Tuscany.

In the year 405, the Goth leader Rhadagaisus, _omnium antiquorum
praesentiumque hostium longe immanissimus_, as Orosius calls him,
suddenly inundated Italy with more than 200,000 Goths, vowing to
sacrifice all the blood of the Romans to his gods. In their terror the
Romans seemed about to return to their old paganism, since Christ had
failed to protect them. _Fervent tota urbe blasphemiae_, writes
Orosius. They advanced towards Rome through the Tuscan Apennines, and
are said to have besieged Florence, though there is no hint of this in
Orosius. On the approach of Stilicho, at the head of thirty legions
with a large force of barbarian auxiliaries, Rhadagaisus and his
hordes--miraculously struck helpless with terror, as Orosius
implies--let themselves be hemmed in in the mountains behind Fiesole,
and all perished, by famine and exhaustion rather than by the sword.
Villani ascribes the salvation of Florence to the prayers of its
bishop, Zenobius, and adds that as this victory of "the Romans and
Florentines" took place on the feast of the virgin martyr Reparata,
her name was given to the church afterwards to become the Cathedral of
Florence.

Zenobius, now a somewhat misty figure, is the first great Florentine
of history, and an impressive personage in Florentine art. We dimly
discern in him an ideal bishop and father of his people; a man of
great austerity and boundless charity, almost an earlier Antoninus.
Perhaps the fact that some of the intervening Florentine bishops were
anything but edifying, has made these two--almost at the beginning and
end of the Middle Ages--stand forth in a somewhat ideal light. He
appears to have lived a monastic life outside the walls in a small
church on the site of the present San Lorenzo, with two young
ecclesiastics, trained by him and St Ambrose, Eugenius and
Crescentius. They died before him and are commonly united with him by
the painters. Here he was frequently visited by St Ambrose--here he
dispensed his charities and worked his miracles (according to the
legend, he had a special gift of raising children to life)--here at
length he died in the odour of sanctity, A.D. 424. The beautiful
legend of his translation should be familiar to every student of
Italian painting. I give it in the words of a monkish writer of the
fourteenth century:--

"About five years after he had been buried, there was made bishop one
named Andrew, and this holy bishop summoned a great chapter of
bishops and clerics, and said in the chapter that it was meet to bear
the body of St Zenobius to the Cathedral Church of San Salvatore; and
so it was ordained. Wherefore, on the 26th of January, he caused him
to be unburied and borne to the Church of San Salvatore by four
bishops; and these bishops bearing the body of St Zenobius were so
pressed upon by the people that they fell near an elm, the which was
close unto the Church of St John the Baptist; and when they fell, the
case where the body of St Zenobius lay was broken, so that the body
touched the elm, and gradually, as the elm was touched, it brought
forth flowers and leaves, and lasted all that year with the flowers
and leaves. The people, seeing the miracle, broke up all the elm, and
with devotion carried the branches away. And the Florentines,
beholding what was done, made a column of marble with a cross where
the elm had been, so that the miracle should ever be remembered by the
people."

Like the statue of Mars, this column was destroyed by the flood of
1333, and the one now standing to the north of the Baptistery was set
up after that year. It was at one time the custom for the clergy on
the feast of the translation to go in procession and fasten a green
bough to this column. Zenobius now stands with St Reparata on the
cathedral façade. Domenico Ghirlandaio painted him, together with his
pupils Eugenius and Crescentius, in the Sala dei Gigli of the Palazzo
della Signoria; an unknown follower of Orcagna had painted a similar
picture for a pillar in the Duomo. Ghiberti cast his miracles in
bronze for the shrine in the Chapel of the Sacrament; Verrocchio and
Lorenzo di Credi at Pistoia placed him and the Baptist on either side
of Madonna's throne. In a picture by some other follower of
Verrocchio's in the Uffizi he is seen offering up a model of his city
to the Blessed Virgin. Two of the most famous of his miracles, the
raising of a child to life and the flowering of the elm tree at his
translation, are superbly rendered in two pictures by Ridolfo
Ghirlandaio. On May 25th the people still throng the Duomo with
bunches of roses and other flowers, which they press to the reliquary
which contains his head, and so obtain the "benedizione di San
Zenobio." Thus does his memory live fresh and green among the people
to whom he so faithfully ministered.

Another barbarian king, the last Gothic hero Totila, advancing upon
Rome in 542, took the same shorter but more difficult route across the
Apennines. According to the legend, he utterly destroyed all Florence,
with the exception of the Church of San Giovanni, and rebuilt Fiesole
to oppose Rome and prevent Florence from being restored. The truth
appears to be that he did not personally attack Florence, but sent a
portion of his troops under his lieutenants. They were successfully
resisted by Justin, who commanded the imperial garrison, and, on the
advance of reinforcements from Ravenna, they drew off into the valley
of the Mugello, where they turned upon the pursuing "Romans" (whose
army consisted of worse barbarians than Goths) and completely routed
them. Fiesole, which had apparently recovered from its old
destruction, was probably too difficult to be assailed; but it appears
to have been gradually growing at the expense of Florence--the
citizens of the latter emigrating to it for greater safety. This was
especially the case during the Lombard invasion, when the fortunes of
Florence were at their lowest, and, indeed, in the second half of the
eighth century, Florence almost sank to being a suburb of Fiesole.

With the advent of Charlemagne and the restoration of the Empire,
brighter days commenced for Florence,--so much so that the story ran
that he had renewed the work of Julius Caesar and founded the city
again. In 786 he wintered here with his court on his third visit to
Rome; and, according to legend, he was here again in great wealth and
pomp in 805, and founded the Church of Santissimi Apostoli--the oldest
existing Florentine building after the Baptistery. Upon its façade you
may still read a pompous inscription concerning the Emperor's
reception in Florence, and how the Church was consecrated by
Archbishop Turpin in the presence of Oliver and Roland, the Paladins!
Florence was becoming a power in Tuscany, or at least beginning to see
more of Popes and Emperors. The Ottos stayed within her walls on their
way to be crowned at Rome; Popes, flying from their rebellious
subjects, found shelter here. In 1055 Victor II. held a council in
Florence. Beautiful Romanesque churches began to rise--notably the SS.
Apostoli and San Miniato, both probably dating from the eleventh
century. Great churchmen appeared among her sons, as San Giovanni
Gualberto--the "merciful knight" of Burne-Jones' unforgettable
picture--the reformer of the Benedictines and the founder of
Vallombrosa. The early reformers, while Hildebrand was still
"Archdeacon of the Roman Church," were specially active in Florence;
and one of them, known as Peter Igneus, in 1068 endured the ordeal of
fire and is said to have passed unhurt through the flames, to convict
the Bishop of Florence of simony. This, with other matters relating to
the times of Giovanni Gualberto and the struggles of the reformers of
the clergy, you may see in the Bargello in a series of noteworthy
marble bas-reliefs (terribly damaged, it is true), from the hand of
Benedetto da Rovezzano.

Although we already begin to hear of the "Florentine people" and the
"Florentine citizens," Florence was at this time subject to the
Margraves of Tuscany. One of them, Hugh the Great, who is said to have
acted as vicar of the Emperor Otto III., and who died at the beginning
of the eleventh century, lies buried in the Badia which had been
founded by his mother, the Countess Willa, in 978. His tomb, one of
the most noteworthy monuments of the fifteenth century, by Mino da
Fiesole, may still be seen, near Filippino Lippi's Vision of St
Bernard.

It was while Florence was nominally under the sway of Hugo's most
famous successor, the Countess Matilda of Tuscany, that Dante's
ancestor Cacciaguida was born; and, in the fifteenth and sixteenth
cantos of the _Paradiso_, he draws an ideal picture of that austere
old Florence, _dentro dalla cerchia antica_, still within her Roman
walls. We can still partly trace and partly conjecture the position of
these walls. The city stood a little way back from the river, and had
four master gates; the Porta San Piero on the east, the Porta del
Duomo on the north, the Porta San Pancrazio on the west, the Porta
Santa Maria on the south (towards the Ponte Vecchio). The heart of the
city, the Forum or, as it came to be called, the Mercato Vecchio, has
indeed been destroyed of late years to make way for the cold and
altogether hideous Piazza Vittorio Emanuele; but we can still perceive
that at its south-east corner the two main streets of this old
_Florentia quadrata_ intersected,--Calimara, running from the Porta
Santa Maria to the Porta del Duomo, south to north, and the Corso,
running east to west from the Porta San Piero to the Porta San
Pancrazio, along the lines of the present Corso, Via degli Speziali,
and Via degli Strozzi. The Porta San Piero probably stood about where
the Via del Corso joins the Via del Proconsolo, and there was a suburb
reaching out to the Church of San Piero Maggiore. Then the walls ran
along the lines of the present Via del Proconsolo and Via dei
Balestrieri, inclosing Santa Reparata and the Baptistery, to the Duomo
Gate beyond the Bishop's palace--probably somewhere near the opening
of the modern Borgo San Lorenzo. Then along the Via Cerretani, Piazza
Antinori, Via Tornabuoni, to the Gate of San Pancrazio, which was
somewhere near the present Palazzo Strozzi; and so on to where the
Church of Santa Trinità now stands, near which there was a postern
gate called the Porta Rossa. Then they turned east along the present
Via delle Terme to the Porta Santa Maria, which was somewhere near the
end of the Mercato Nuovo, after which their course back to the Porta
San Piero is more uncertain. Outside the walls were churches and
ever-increasing suburbs, and Florence was already becoming an
important commercial centre. Matilda's beneficent sway left it in
practical independence to work out its own destinies; she protected it
from imperial aggressions, and curbed the nobles of the contrada, who
were of Teutonic descent and who, from their feudal castles round,
looked with hostility upon the rich burgher city of pure Latin blood
that was gradually reducing their power and territorial sway. At
intervals the great Countess entered Florence, and either in person or
by her deputies and judges (members of the chief Florentine families)
administered justice in the Forum. Indeed she played the part of
Dante's ideal Emperor in the _De Monarchia_; made Roman law obeyed
through her dominions; established peace and curbed disorder; and
therefore, in spite of her support of papal claims for political
empire, when the _Divina Commedia_ came to be written, Dante placed
her as guardian of the Earthly Paradise to which the Emperor should
guide man, and made her the type of the glorified active life. Her
praises, _la lauda di Matelda_, were long sung in the Florentine
churches, as may be gathered from a passage in Boccaccio.

It is from the death of Matilda in 1115 that the history of the
Commune dates. During her lifetime she seems to have gradually,
especially while engaged in her conflicts with the Emperor Henry,
delegated her powers to the chief Florentine citizens themselves; and
in her name they made war upon the aggressive nobility in the country
round, in the interests of their commerce. For Dante the first half of
this twelfth century represents the golden age in which his ancestor
lived, when the great citizen nobles--Bellincion Berti, Ubertino
Donati, and the heads of the Nerli and Vecchietti and the rest--lived
simple and patriotic lives, filled the offices of state and led the
troops against the foes of the Commune. In a grand burst of triumph
that old Florentine crusader, Cacciaguida, closes the sixteenth canto
of the _Paradiso_:

     "Con queste genti, e con altre con esse,
       vid'io Fiorenza in sì fatto riposo,
       che non avea cagion onde piangesse;
     con queste genti vid'io glorioso,
       e giusto il popol suo tanto, che'l giglio
       non era ad asta mai posto a ritroso,
     nè per division fatto vermiglio."[5]

  [5] "With these folk, and with others with them, did I see Florence in
  such full repose, she had not cause for wailing;

  With these folk I saw her people so glorious and so just, ne'er was
  the lily on the shaft reversed, nor yet by faction dyed
  vermilion."--Wicksteed's translation.

When Matilda died, and the Popes and Emperors prepared to struggle for
her legacy (which thus initiated the strifes of Guelfs and
Ghibellines), the Florentine Republic asserted its independence: the
citizen nobles who had been her delegates and judges now became the
Consuls of the Commune and the leaders of the republican forces in
war. In 1119 the Florentines assailed the castle of Monte Cascioli,
and killed the imperial vicar who defended it; in 1125 they took and
destroyed Fiesole, which had always been a refuge for robber nobles
and all who hated the Republic. But already signs of division were
seen in the city itself, though it was a century before it came to a
head; and the great family of the Uberti--who, like the nobles of the
contrada, were of Teutonic descent--were prominently to the front, but
soon to be _disfatti per la lor superbia_. Scarcely was Matilda dead
than they appear to have attempted to seize on the supreme power, and
to have only been defeated with much bloodshed and burning of houses.
Still the Republic pursued its victorious course through the twelfth
century--putting down the feudal barons, forcing them to enter the
city and join the Commune, and extending their commerce and influence
as well as their territory on all sides. And already these nobles
within and without the city were beginning to build their lofty
towers, and to associate themselves into Societies of the Towers;
while the people were grouped into associations which afterwards
became the Greater and Lesser Arts or Guilds. Villani sees the origin
of future contests in the mingling of races, Roman and Fiesolan;
modern writers find it in the distinction, mentioned already, between
the nobles, of partly Teutonic origin and imperial sympathies, and the
burghers, who were the true Italians, the descendants of those over
whom successive tides of barbarian conquest had swept, and to whom the
ascendency of the nobles would mean an alien yoke. This struggle
between a landed military and feudal nobility, waning in power and
authority, and a commercial democracy of more purely Latin descent,
ever increasing in wealth and importance, is what lies at the bottom
of the contest between Florentine Guelfs and Ghibellines; and the
rival claims of Pope and Emperor are of secondary importance, as far
as Tuscany is concerned.

In 1173 (as the most recent historian of Florence has shown, and not
in the eleventh century as formerly supposed), the second circle of
walls was built, and included a much larger tract of city, though many
of the churches which we have been wont to consider the most essential
things in Florence stand outside them. A new Porta San Piero, just
beyond the present façade of the ruined church of San Piero Maggiore,
enclosed the Borgo di San Piero; thence the walls passed round to the
Porta di Borgo San Lorenzo, just to the north of the present Piazza,
and swept round, with two gates of minor importance, past the chief
western Porta San Pancrazio or Porta San Paolo, beyond which the
present Piazza di Santa Maria Novella stands, down to the Arno where
there was a Porta alla Carraia, at the point where the bridge was
built later. Hence a lower wall ran along the Arno, taking in the
parts excluded from the older circuit down to the Ponte Vecchio. About
half-way between this and the Ponte Rubaconte, the walls turned up
from the Arno, with several small gates, until they reached the place
where the present Piazza di Santa Croce lies--which was outside. Here,
just beyond the old site of the Amphitheatre, there was a gate, after
which they ran straight without gate or postern to San Piero, where
they had commenced.

Instead of the old Quarters, named from the gates, the city was now
divided into six corresponding Sesti or sextaries; the Sesto di Porta
San Piero, the Sesto still called from the old Porta del Duomo, the
Sesto di Porta Pancrazio, the Sesto di San Piero Scheraggio (a church
near the Palazzo Vecchio, but now totally destroyed), and the Sesto di
Borgo Santissimi Apostoli--these two replacing the old Quarter of
Porta Santa Maria. Across the river lay the Sesto d'Oltrarno--then
for the most part unfortified. At that time the inhabitants of
Oltrarno were mostly the poor and the lower classes, but not a few
noble families settled there later on. The Consuls, the supreme
officers of the state, were elected annually, two for each sesto,
usually nobles of popular tendencies; there was a council of a
hundred, elected every year, its members being mainly chosen from the
Guilds as the Consuls from the Towers; and a Parliament of the people
could be summoned in the Piazza. Thus the popular government was
constituted.

Hardly had the new walls risen when the Uberti in 1177 attempted to
overthrow the Consuls and seize the government of the city; they were
partially successful, in that they managed to make the administration
more aristocratic, after a prolonged civil struggle of two years'
duration. In 1185 Frederick Barbarossa took away the privileges of the
Republic and deprived it of its contrada; but his son, Henry VI.,
apparently gave it back. With the beginning of the thirteenth century
we find the Consuls replaced by a Podestà, a foreign noble elected by
the citizens themselves; and the Florentines, not content with having
back their contrada, beginning to make wars of conquest upon their
neighbours, especially the Sienese, from whom they exacted a cession
of territory in 1208.

  [Illustration: THE BUONDELMONTE TOWER]

In 1215 there was enacted a deed in which poets and chroniclers have
seen a turning point in the history of Florence. Buondelmonte dei
Buondelmonti, "a right winsome and comely knight," as Villani calls
him, had pledged himself for political reasons to marry a maiden of
the Amidei family--the kinsmen of the proud Uberti and Fifanti. But,
at the instigation of Gualdrada Donati, he deserted his betrothed and
married Gualdrada's own daughter, a girl of great beauty. Upon this
the nobles of the kindred of the deserted girl held a council
together to decide what vengeance to take, in which "Mosca dei
Lamberti spoke the evil word: _Cosa fatta, capo ha_; to wit, that he
should be slain; and so it was done." On Easter Sunday the Amidei and
their associates assembled, after hearing mass in San Stefano, in a
palace of the Amidei, which was on the Lungarno at the opening of the
present Via Por Santa Maria; and they watched young Buondelmonte
coming from Oltrarno, riding over the Ponte Vecchio "dressed nobly in
a new robe all white and on a white palfrey," crowned with a garland,
making his way towards the palaces of his kindred in Borgo Santissimi
Apostoli. As soon as he had reached this side, at the foot of the
pillar on which stood the statue of Mars, they rushed out upon him.
Schiatta degli Uberti struck him from his horse with a mace, and Mosca
dei Lamberti, Lambertuccio degli Amidei, Oderigo Fifanti, and one of
the Gangalandi, stabbed him to death with their daggers at the foot of
the statue. "Verily is it shown," writes Villani, "that the enemy of
human nature by reason of the sins of the Florentines had power in
this idol of Mars, which the pagan Florentines adored of old; for at
the foot of his figure was this murder committed, whence such great
evil followed to the city of Florence." The body was placed upon a
bier, and, with the young bride supporting the dead head of her
bridegroom, carried through the streets to urge the people to
vengeance. Headed by the Uberti, the older and more aristocratic
families took up the cause of the Amidei; the burghers and the
democratically inclined nobles supported the Buondelmonti, and from
this the chronicler dates the beginning of the Guelfs and Ghibellines
in Florence.

But it was only the names that were then introduced, to intensify a
struggle which had in reality commenced a century before this, in
1115, on the death of Matilda. As far as Guelf and Ghibelline meant a
struggle of the commune of burghers and traders with a military
aristocracy of Teutonic descent and feudal imperial tendencies, the
thing is already clearly defined in the old contest between the Uberti
and the Consuls. This, however, precipitated matters, and initiated
fifty years of perpetual conflict. Dante, through Cacciaguida, touches
upon the tragedy in his great way in _Paradiso_ XVI., where he calls
it the ruin of old Florence.

     "La casa di che nacque il vostro fleto,
       per lo giusto disdegno che v'ha morti
       e posto fine al vostro viver lieto,
     era onorata ed essa e suoi consorti.
       O Buondelmonte, quanto mal fuggisti
       le nozze sue per gli altrui conforti!
     Molti sarebbon lieti, che son tristi,
       se Dio t'avesse conceduto ad Ema
       la prima volta che a città venisti.
     Ma conveniasi a quella pietra scema
       che guarda il ponte, che Fiorenza fesse
       vittima nella sua pace postrema."[6]

  [6] "The house from which your wailing sprang, because of the just
  anger which hath slain you and placed a term upon your joyous life,

  "was honoured, it and its associates. Oh Buondelmonte, how ill didst
  thou flee its nuptials at the prompting of another!

  "Joyous had many been who now are sad, had God committed thee unto the
  Ema the first time that thou camest to the city.

  "But to that mutilated stone which guardeth the bridge 'twas meet that
  Florence should give a victim in her last time of peace."

And again, in the Hell of the sowers of discord, where they are
horribly mutilated by the devil's sword, he meets the miserable Mosca.

     "Ed un, ch'avea l'una e l'altra man mozza,
       levando i moncherin per l'aura fosca,
       sì che il sangue facea la faccia sozza,
     gridò: Ricorderaiti anche del Mosca,
       che dissi, lasso! 'Capo ha cosa fatta,'
       che fu il mal seme per la gente tosca."[7]

  [7] "And one who had both hands cut off, raising the stumps through
  the dim air so that their blood defiled his face, cried: 'Thou wilt
  recollect the Mosca too, ah me! who said, "A thing done has an end!"
  which was the seed of evil to the Tuscan people.'" (_Inf._ xxviii.)

For a time the Commune remained Guelf and powerful, in spite of
dissensions; it adhered to the Pope against Frederick II., and waged
successful wars with its Ghibelline rivals, Pisa and Siena. Of the
other Tuscan cities Lucca was Guelf, Pistoia Ghibelline. A religious
feud mingled with the political dissensions; heretics, the Paterini,
Epicureans and other sects, were multiplying in Italy, favoured by
Frederick II. and patronised by the Ghibellines. Fra Pietro of Verona,
better known as St Peter Martyr, organised a crusade, and, with his
white-robed captains of the Faith, hunted them in arms through the
streets of Florence; at the Croce al Trebbio, near Santa Maria
Novella, and in the Piazza di Santa Felicità over the Arno, columns
still mark the place where he fell furiously upon them, _con l'uficio
apostolico_. But in 1249, at the instigation of Frederick II., the
Uberti and Ghibelline nobles rose in arms; and, after a desperate
conflict with the Guelf magnates and the people, gained possession of
the city, with the aid of the Emperor's German troops. And, on the
night of February 2nd, the Guelf leaders with a great following of
people armed and bearing torches buried Rustico Marignolli, who had
fallen in defending the banner of the Lily, with military honours in
San Lorenzo, and then sternly passed into exile. Their palaces and
towers were destroyed, while the Uberti and their allies with the
Emperor's German troops held the city. This lasted not two years. In
1250, on the death of Frederick II., the Republic threw off the yoke,
and the first democratic constitution of Florence was established, the
_Primo Popolo_, in which the People were for the first time regularly
organised both for peace and for war under a new officer, the Captain
of the People, whose appointment was intended to outweigh the Podestà,
the head of the Commune and the leader of the nobles. The Captain was
intrusted with the white and red Gonfalon of the People, and
associated with the central government of the Ancients of the people,
who to some extent corresponded to the Consuls of olden time.

This _Primo Popolo_ ran a victorious course of ten years, years of
internal prosperity and almost continuous external victory. It was
under it that the banner of the Commune was changed from a white lily
on a red field to a red lily on a white field--_per division fatto
vermiglio_, as Dante puts it--after the Uberti and Lamberti with the
turbulent Ghibellines had been expelled. Pisa was humbled; Pistoia and
Volterra forced to submit. But it came to a terrible end, illuminated
only by the heroism of one of its conquerors. A conspiracy on the part
of the Uberti to take the government from the people and subject the
city to the great Ghibelline prince, Manfredi, King of Apulia and
Sicily, son of Frederick II., was discovered and severely punished.
Headed by Farinata degli Uberti and aided by King Manfredi's German
mercenaries, the exiles gathered at Siena, against which the
Florentine Republic declared war. In 1260 the Florentine army
approached Siena. A preliminary skirmish, in which a band of German
horsemen was cut to pieces and the royal banner captured, only led a
few months later to the disastrous defeat of Montaperti, _che fece
l'Arbia colorata in rosso_; in which, after enormous slaughter and
loss of the Carroccio, or battle car of the Republic, "the ancient
people of Florence was broken and annihilated" on September 4th, 1260.
Without waiting for the armies of the conqueror, the Guelf nobles with
their families and many of the burghers fled the city, mainly to
Lucca; and, on the 16th of September, the Germans under Count
Giordano, Manfredi's vicar, with Farinata and the exiles, entered
Florence as conquerors. All liberty was destroyed, the houses of
Guelfs razed to the ground, the Count Guido Novello--the lord of Poppi
and a ruthless Ghibelline--made Podestà. The Via Ghibellina is his
record. It was finally proposed in a great Ghibelline council at
Empoli to raze Florence to the ground; but the fiery eloquence of
Farinata degli Uberti, who declared that, even if he stood alone, he
would defend her sword in hand as long as life lasted, saved his city.
Marked out with all his house for the relentless hate of the
Florentine people, Dante has secured to him a lurid crown of glory
even in Hell. Out of the burning tombs of the heretics he rises, _come
avesse l'inferno in gran dispitto_, still the unvanquished hero who,
when all consented to destroy Florence, "alone with open face defended
her."

For nearly six years the life of the Florentine people was suspended,
and lay crushed beneath an oppressive despotism of Ghibelline nobles
and German soldiery under Guido Novello, the vicar of King Manfredi.
Excluded from all political interests, the people imperceptibly
organised their greater and lesser guilds, and waited the event.
During this gloom Farinata degli Uberti died in 1264, and in the
following year, 1265, Dante Alighieri was born. That same year, 1265,
Charles of Anjou, the champion of the Church, invited by Clement IV.
to take the crown of the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, entered Italy,
and in February 1266 annihilated the army of Manfredi at the battle of
Benevento. Foremost in the ranks of the crusaders--for as such the
French were regarded--fought the Guelf exiles from Florence, under the
Papal banner specially granted them by Pope Clement--a red eagle
clutching a green dragon on a white field. This, with the addition of
a red lily over the eagle's head, became the arms of the society known
as the Parte Guelfa; you may see it on the Porta San Niccolò and in
other parts of the city between the cross of the People and the red
lily of the Commune. Many of the noble Florentines were knighted by
the hand of King Charles before the battle, and did great deeds of
valour upon the field. "These men cannot lose to-day," exclaimed
Manfredi, as he watched their advance; and when the silver eagle of
the house of Suabia fell from Manfredi's helmet and he died in the
melée crying _Hoc est signum Dei_, the triumph of the Guelfs was
complete and German rule at an end in Italy. Of Manfredi's heroic
death and the dishonour done by the Pope's legate to his body, Dante
has sung in the _Purgatorio_.

When the news reached Florence, the Ghibellines trembled for their
safety, and the people prepared to win back their own. An attempt at
compromise was first made, under the auspices of Pope Clement. Two
_Frati Gaudenti_ or "Cavalieri di Maria," members of an order of
warrior monks from Bologna, were made Podestàs, one a Guelf and one a
Ghibelline, to come to terms with the burghers. You may still trace
the place where the Bottega and court of the Calimala stood in Mercato
Nuovo (the Calimala being the Guild of dressers of foreign
cloth--panni franceschi, as Villani calls it), near where the Via
Porta Rossa now enters the present Via Calzaioli. Here the new council
of thirty-six of the best citizens, burghers and artizans, with a few
trusted members of the nobility, met every day to settle the affairs
of the State. Dante has branded these two warrior monks as hypocrites,
but, as Capponi says, from this Bottega issued at once and almost
spontaneously the Republic of Florence. Their great achievement was
the thorough organisation of the seven greater Guilds, of which more
presently, to each of which were given consuls and rectors, and a
gonfalon or ensign of its own, around which its followers might
assemble in arms in defence of People and Commune. To counteract this,
Guido Novello brought in more troops from the Ghibelline cities of
Tuscany, and increased the taxes to pay his Germans; until he had
fifteen hundred horsemen in the city under his command. With their aid
the nobles, headed by the Lamberti, rushed to arms. The people rose
_en masse_ and, headed by a Ghibelline noble, Gianni dei Soldanieri,
who apparently had deserted his party in order to get control of the
State (and who is placed by Dante in the Hell of traitors), raised
barricades in the Piazza di Santa Trinità and in the Borgo SS.
Apostoli, at the foot of the Tower of the Girolami, which still
stands. The Ghibellines and Germans gathered in the Piazza di San
Giovanni, held all the north-east of the town, and swept down upon
the people's barricades under a heavy fire of darts and stones from
towers and windows. But the street fighting put the horsemen at a
hopeless disadvantage, and, repulsed in the assault, the Count and his
followers evacuated the town. This was on St Martin's day, November
11th, 1266. The next day a half-hearted attempt to re-enter the city
at the gate near the Ponte alla Carraia was made, but easily driven
off; and for two centuries and more no foreigner set foot as conqueror
in Florence.

Not that Florence either obtained or desired absolute independence.
The first step was to choose Charles of Anjou, the new King of Naples
and Sicily, for their suzerain for ten years; but, cruel tyrant as he
was elsewhere, he showed himself a true friend to the Florentines, and
his suzerainty seldom weighed upon them oppressively. The Uberti and
others were expelled, and some, who held out among the castles, were
put to death at his orders. But the government became truly
democratic. There was a central administration of twelve Ancients,
elected annually, two for each sesto; with a council of one hundred
"good men of the People, without whose deliberation no great thing or
expense could be done"; and, nominally at least, a parliament. Next
came the Captain of the People (usually an alien noble of democratic
sympathies), with a special council or _credenza_, called the Council
of the Captain and Capetudini (the Capetudini composed of the consuls
of the Guilds), of 80 members; and a general council of 300 (including
the 80), all _popolani_ and Guelfs. Next came the Podestà, always an
alien noble (appointed at first by King Charles), with the Council of
the Podestà of 90 members, and the general Council of the Commune of
300--in both of which nobles could sit as well as popolani. Measures
presented by the 12 to the 100 were then submitted successively to
the two councils of the Captain, and then, on the next day, to the
councils of the Podestà and the Commune. Occasionally measures were
concerted between the magistrates and a specially summoned council of
_richiesti_, without the formalities and delays of these various
councils. Each of the seven greater Arts[8] was further organised with
its own officers and councils and banners, like a miniature republic,
and its consuls (forming the Capetudini) always sat in the Captain's
council and usually in that of the Podestà likewise.

  [8] The Arte di Calimala, or of the Mercatanti di Calimala, the
  dressers of foreign cloth; the Arte della Lana, or wool; the Arte dei
  Giudici e Notai, judges and notaries, also called the Arte del
  Proconsolo; the Arte del Cambio or dei Cambiatori, money-changers; the
  Arte dei Medici e Speziali, physicians and apothecaries; the Arte
  della Seta, or silk, also called the Arte di Por Santa Maria; and the
  Arte dei Vaiai e Pellicciai, the furriers. The Minor Arts were
  organised later.

  [Illustration: THE PALACE OF THE PARTE GUELFA]

There was one dark spot. A new organisation was set on foot, under the
auspices of Pope Clement and King Charles, known as the Parte
Guelfa--another miniature republic within the republic--with six
captains (three nobles and three popolani) and two councils, mainly to
persecute the Ghibellines, to manage confiscated goods, and uphold
Guelf principles in the State. In later days these Captains of the
Guelf Party became exceedingly powerful and oppressive, and were the
cause of much dissension. They met at first in the Church of S. Maria
sopra la Porta (now the Church of S. Biagio), and later had a special
palace of their own--which still stands, partly in the Via delle
Terme, as you pass up it from the Via Por Santa Maria on the right,
and partly in the Piazza di San Biagio. It is an imposing and somewhat
threatening mass, partly of the fourteenth and partly of the early
fifteenth century. The church, which retains in part its structure of
the thirteenth century, had been a place of secret meeting for the
Guelfs during Guido Novello's rule; it still stands, but converted
into a barracks for the firemen of Florence.

Thus was the greatest and most triumphant Republic of the Middle Ages
organised--the constitution under which the most glorious culture and
art of the modern world was to flourish. The great Guilds were
henceforth a power in the State, and the _Secondo Popolo_ had
arisen--the democracy that Dante and Boccaccio were to know.

  [Illustration: ARMS OF PARTE GUELFA]




CHAPTER II

_The Times of Dante and Boccaccio_

     "Godi, Fiorenza, poi che sei sì grande
     che per mare e per terra batti l'ali,
     e per l'inferno il tuo nome si spande."
         --_Dante._


The century that passed from the birth of Dante in 1265 to the deaths
of Petrarch and Boccaccio, in 1374 and 1375 respectively, may be
styled the _Trecento_, although it includes the last quarter of the
thirteenth century and excludes the closing years of the fourteenth.
In general Italian history, it runs from the downfall of the German
Imperial power at the battle of Benevento, in 1266, to the return of
the Popes from Avignon in 1377. In art, it is the epoch of the
completion of Italian Gothic in architecture, of the followers and
successors of Niccolò and Giovanni Pisano in sculpture, of the school
of Giotto in painting. In letters, it is the great period of pure
Tuscan prose and verse. Dante and Giovanni Villani, Dino Compagni,
Petrarch, Boccaccio and Sacchetti, paint the age for us in all its
aspects; and a note of mysticism is heard at the close (though not
from a Florentine) in the Epistles of St. Catherine of Siena, of whom
a living Italian poet has written--_Nel Giardino del conoscimento di
sè ella è come una rosa di fuoco._ But at the same time it is a
century full of civil war and sanguinary factions, in which every
Italian city was divided against itself; and nowhere were these
divisions more notable or more bitterly fought out than in Florence.
Yet, in spite of it all, the Republic proceeded majestically on its
triumphant course. Machiavelli lays much stress upon this in the Proem
to his _Istorie Fiorentine_. "In Florence," he says, "at first the
nobles were divided against each other, then the people against the
nobles, and lastly the people against the populace; and it ofttimes
happened that when one of these parties got the upper hand, it split
into two. And from these divisions there resulted so many deaths, so
many banishments, so many destructions of families, as never befell in
any other city of which we have record. Verily, in my opinion, nothing
manifests more clearly the power of our city than the result of these
divisions, which would have been able to destroy every great and most
potent city. Nevertheless ours seemed thereby to grow ever greater;
such was the virtue of those citizens, and the power of their genius
and disposition to make themselves and their country great, that those
who remained free from these evils could exalt her with their virtue
more than the malignity of those accidents, which had diminished them,
had been able to cast her down. And without doubt, if only Florence,
after her liberation from the Empire, had had the felicity of adopting
a form of government which would have kept her united, I know not what
republic, whether modern or ancient, would have surpassed her--with
such great virtue in war and in peace would she have been filled."

  [Illustration: FLORENTINE FAMILIES, EARLY THIRTEENTH CENTURY, WITH A
  PORTION OF THE SECOND WALLS INDICATED (_Temple Classics: Paradiso_).
  (The representation is approximate only: the Cerchi Palace near the
  Corso degli Adimari should be more to the right.)]

The first thirty-four years of this epoch are among the brightest in
Florentine history, the years that ran from the triumph of the Guelfs
to the sequel to the Jubilee of 1300, from the establishment of the
_Secondo Popolo_ to its split into Neri and Bianchi, into Black Guelfs
and White Guelfs. Externally Florence became the chief power of
Tuscany, and all the neighbouring towns gradually, to a greater or
less extent, acknowledged her sway; internally, in spite of growing
friction between the burghers and the new Guelf nobility, between
_popolani_ and _grandi_ or magnates, she was daily advancing in wealth
and prosperity, in beauty and artistic power. The exquisite poetry of
the _dolce stil novo_ was heard. Guido Cavalcanti, a noble Guelf who
had married the daughter of Farinata degli Uberti, and, later, the
notary Lapo Gianni and Dante Alighieri, showed the Italians what true
lyric song was; philosophers like Brunetto Latini served the state;
modern history was born with Giovanni Villani. Great palaces were
built for the officers of the Republic; vast Gothic churches arose.
Women of rare beauty, eternalised as Beatrice, Giovanna, Lagia and the
like, passed through the streets and adorned the social gatherings in
the open loggias of the palaces. Splendid pageants and processions
hailed the Calends of May and the Nativity of the Baptist, and marked
the civil and ecclesiastical festivities and state solemnities. The
people advanced more and more in power and patriotism; while the
magnates, in their towers and palace-fortresses, were partly forced to
enter the life of the guilds, partly held aloof and plotted to recover
their lost authority, but were always ready to officer the burgher
forces in time of war, or to extend Florentine influence by serving as
Podestàs and Captains in other Italian cities.

Dante was born in the Sesto di San Piero Maggiore in May 1265, some
eighteen months before the liberation of the city. He lost his mother
in his infancy, and his father while he was still a boy. This father
appears to have been a notary, and came from a noble but decadent
family, who were probably connected with the Elisei, an aristocratic
house of supposed Roman descent, who had by this time almost entirely
disappeared. The Alighieri, who were Guelfs, do not seem to have
ranked officially as _grandi_ or magnates; one of Dante's uncles had
fought heroically at Montaperti. Almost all the families connected
with the story of Dante's life had their houses in the Sesto di San
Piero Maggiore, and their sites may in some instances still be traced.
Here were the Cerchi, with whom he was to be politically associated in
after years; the Donati, from whom sprung one of his dearest friends,
Forese, with one of his deadliest foes, Messer Corso, and Dante's own
wife, Gemma; and the Portinari, the house according to tradition of
Beatrice, the "giver of blessing" of Dante's _Vita Nuova_, the
mystical lady of the _Paradiso_. Guido Cavalcanti, the first and best
of all his friends, lived a little apart from this Sesto di
Scandali--as St Peter's section of the town came to be called--between
the Mercato Nuovo and San Michele in Orto. Unlike the Alighieri,
though not of such ancient birth as theirs, the Cavalcanti were
exceedingly rich and powerful, and ranked officially among the
_grandi_, the Guelf magnates. At this epoch, as Signor Carocci
observes in his _Firenze scomparsa_, Florence must have presented the
aspect of a vast forest of towers. These towers rose over the houses
of powerful and wealthy families, to be used for offence or defence,
when the faction fights raged, or to be dismantled and cut down when
the people gained the upper hand. The best idea of such a mediæval
city, on a smaller scale, can still be got at San Gemignano, "the fair
town called of the Fair Towers," where dozens of these _torri_ still
stand; and also, though to a less extent, at Gubbio. A few have been
preserved here in Florence, and there are a number of narrow streets,
on both sides of the Arno, which still retain some of their mediæval
characteristics. In the Borgo Santissimi Apostoli, for instance, and
in the Via Lambertesca, there are several striking towers of this
kind, with remnants of palaces of the _grandi_; and, on the other side
of the river, especially in the Via dei Bardi and the Borgo San
Jacopo. When one family, or several associated families, had palaces
on either side of a narrow street defended by such towers, and could
throw chains and barricades across at a moment's notice, it will
readily be understood that in times of popular tumult Florence
bristled with fortresses in every direction.

In 1282, the year before that in which Dante received the "most sweet
salutation," _dolcissimo salutare_, of "the glorious lady of my mind
who was called by many Beatrice, that knew not how she was called,"
and saw the vision of the Lord of terrible aspect in the mist of the
colour of fire (the vision which inspired the first of his sonnets
which has been preserved to us), the democratic government of the
_Secondo Popolo_ was confirmed by being placed entirely in the hands
of the _Arti Maggiori_ or Greater Guilds. The Signoria was henceforth
to be composed of the Priors of the Arts, chosen from the chief
members of the Greater Guilds, who now became the supreme magistrates
of the State. They were, at this epoch of Florentine history, six in
number, one to represent each Sesto, and held office for two months
only; on leaving office, they joined with the Capetudini, and other
citizens summoned for the purpose, to elect their successors. At a
later period this was done, ostensibly at least, by lot instead of
election. The glorious Palazzo Vecchio had not yet been built, and the
Priors met at first in a house belonging to the monks of the Badia,
defended by the Torre della Castagna; and afterwards in a palace
belonging to the Cerchi (both tower and palace are still standing). Of
the seven Greater Arts--the _Calimala_, the Money-changers, the
Wool-merchants, the Silk-merchants, the Physicians and Apothecaries,
the traders in furs and skins, the Judges and Notaries--the latter
alone do not seem at first to have been represented in the Priorate;
but to a certain extent they exercised control over all the Guilds,
sat in all their tribunals, and had a Proconsul, who came next to the
Signoria in all state processions, and had a certain jurisdiction over
all the Arts. It was thus essentially a government of those who were
actually engaged in industry and commerce. "Henceforth," writes
Pasquale Villari, "the Republic is properly a republic of merchants,
and only he who is ascribed to the Arts can govern it: every grade of
nobility, ancient or new, is more a loss than a privilege." The double
organisation of the People under the Captain with his two councils,
and the Commune under the Podestà with his special council and the
general council (in these two latter alone, it will be remembered,
could nobles sit and vote) still remained; but the authority of the
Podestà was naturally diminished.

  [Illustration: CORSO DONATI'S TOWER]

Florence was now the predominant power in central Italy; the cities of
Tuscany looked to her as the head of the Guelfic League, although,
says Dino Compagni, "they love her more in discord than in peace, and
obey her more for fear than for love." A protracted war against Pisa
and Arezzo, carried on from 1287 to 1292, drew even Dante from his
poetry and his study; it is believed that he took part in the great
battle of Campaldino in 1289, in which the last efforts of the old
Tuscan Ghibellinism were shattered by the Florentines and their
allies, fighting under the royal banner of the House of Anjou. Amerigo
di Narbona, one of the captains of King Charles II. of Naples, was in
command of the Guelfic forces. From many points of view, this is one
of the more interesting battles of the Middle Ages. It is said to have
been almost the last Italian battle in which the burgher forces, and
not the mercenary soldiery of the Condottieri, carried the day. Corso
Donati and Vieri dei Cerchi, soon to be in deadly feud in the
political arena, were among the captains of the Florentine host; and
Dante himself is said to have served in the front rank of the cavalry.
In a fragment of a letter ascribed to him by one of his earlier
biographers, Dante speaks of this battle of Campaldino; "wherein I had
much dread, and at the end the greatest gladness, by reason of the
varying chances of that battle." One of the Ghibelline leaders,
Buonconte da Montefeltro, who was mortally wounded and died in the
rout, meets the divine poet on the shores of the Mountain of
Purgation, and, in lines of almost ineffable pathos, tells him the
whole story of his last moments. Villani, ever mindful of Florence
being the daughter of Rome, assures us that the news of the great
victory was miraculously brought to the Priors in the Cerchi Palace,
in much the same way as the tidings of Lake Regillus to the expectant
Fathers at the gate of Rome. Several of the exiled Uberti had fallen
in the ranks of the enemy, fighting against their own country. In the
cloisters of the Annunziata you will find a contemporary monument of
the battle, let into the west wall of the church near the ground; the
marble figure of an armed knight on horseback, with the golden lilies
of France over his surcoat, charging down upon the foe. It is the tomb
of the French cavalier, Guglielmo Berardi, "balius" of Amerigo di
Narbona, who fell upon the field.

The eleven years that follow Campaldino, culminating in the Jubilee of
Pope Boniface VIII. and the opening of the fourteenth century, are the
years of Dante's political life. They witnessed the great political
reforms which confirmed the democratic character of the government,
and the marvellous artistic embellishment of the city under Arnolfo di
Cambio and his contemporaries. During these years the Palazzo Vecchio,
the Duomo, and the grandest churches of Florence were founded; and the
Third Walls, whose gates and some scanty remnants are with us to-day,
were begun. Favoured by the Popes and the Angevin sovereigns of
Naples, now that the old Ghibelline nobility, save in a few valleys
and mountain fortresses, was almost extinct, the new nobles, the
_grandi_ or Guelf magnates, proud of their exploits at Campaldino, and
chafing against the burgher rule, began to adopt an overbearing line
of conduct towards the people, and to be more factious than ever among
themselves. Strong measures were adopted against them, such as the
complete enfranchisement of the peasants of the contrada in
1289--measures which culminated in the famous Ordinances of Justice,
passed in 1293, by which the magnates were completely excluded from
the administration, severe laws made to restrain their rough usage of
the people, and a special magistrate, the _Gonfaloniere_ or
"Standard-bearer of Justice," added to the Priors, to hold office like
them for two months in rotation from each sesto of the city, and to
rigidly enforce the laws against the magnates. This Gonfaloniere
became practically the head of the Signoria, and was destined to
become the supreme head of the State in the latter days of the
Florentine Republic; to him was publicly assigned the great Gonfalon
of the People, with its red cross on a white field; and he had a large
force of armed popolani under his command to execute these ordinances,
against which there was no appeal allowed.[9] These Ordinances also
fixed the number of the Guilds at twenty-one--seven Arti Maggiori,
mainly engaged in wholesale commerce, exportation and importation,
fourteen Arti Minori, which carried on the retail traffic and internal
trade of the city--and renewed their statutes.

  [9] Some years later a new officer, the Executor of Justice, was
  instituted to carry out these ordinances instead of leaving them to
  the Gonfaloniere. This Executor of Justice was associated with the
  Captain, but was usually a foreign Guelf burgher; later he developed
  into the Bargello, head of police and governor of the gaol. It will,
  of course, be seen that while Podestà, Captain, Executore (the
  _Rettori_), were aliens, the Gonfaloniere and Priors (the _Signori_)
  were necessarily Florentines and popolani.

The hero of this Magna Charta of Florence is a certain Giano della
Bella, a noble who had fought at Campaldino and had now joined the
people; a man of untractable temper, who knew not how to make
concessions; somewhat anti-clerical and obnoxious to the Pope, but
consumed by an intense and savage thirst for justice, upon which the
craftier politicians of both sides played. "Let the State perish,
rather than such things be tolerated," was his constant political
formula: _Perisca innanzi la città, che tante opere rie si
sostengano._ But the magnates, from whom he was endeavouring to snatch
their last political refuge, the Parte Guelfa, muttered, "Let us smite
the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered"; and at length, after
an ineffectual conspiracy against his life, Giano was driven out of
the city, on March 5th, 1295, by a temporary alliance of the burghers
and magnates against him. The _popolo minuto_ and artizans, upon whom
he had mainly relied and whose interests he had sustained, deserted
him; and the government remained henceforth in the hands of the
wealthy burghers, the _popolo grosso_. Already a cleavage was becoming
visible between these Arti Maggiori, who ruled the State, and the Arti
Minori whose gains lay in local merchandise and traffic, partly
dependent upon the magnates. And a butcher, nicknamed Pecora, or, as
we may call him, Lambkin, appears prominently as a would-be
politician; he cuts a quaintly fierce figure in Dino Compagni's
chronicle. In this same year, 1295, Dante Alighieri entered public
life, and, on July 6th, he spoke in the General Council of the Commune
in support of certain modifications in the Ordinances of Justice,
whereby nobles, by leaving their order and matriculating in one or
other of the Arts, even without exercising it, could be free from
their disabilities, and could share in the government of the State,
and hold office in the Signoria. He himself, in this same year,
matriculated in the Arte dei Medici e Speziali, the great guild which
included the painters and the book-sellers.

The growing dissensions in the Guelf Republic came to a head in 1300,
the famous year of jubilee in which the Pope was said to have declared
that the Florentines were the "fifth element." The rival factions of
Bianchi and Neri, White Guelfs and Black Guelfs, which were now to
divide the whole city, arose partly from the deadly hostility of two
families each with a large following, the Cerchi and the Donati,
headed respectively by Vieri dei Cerchi and Corso Donati, the two
heroes of Campaldino; partly from an analogous feud in Pistoia, which
was governed from Florence; partly from the political discord between
that party in the State that clung to the (modified) Ordinances of
Justice and supported the Signoria, and another party that hated the
Ordinances and loved the tyrannical Parte Guelfa. They were further
complicated by the intrigues of the "black" magnates with Pope
Boniface VIII., who apparently hoped by their means to repress the
burgher government and unite the city in obedience to himself. With
this end in view, he had been endeavouring to obtain from Albert of
Austria the renunciation, in favour of the Holy See, of all rights
claimed by the Emperors over Tuscany. Dante himself, Guido Cavalcanti,
and most of the best men in Florence either directly adhered to, or at
least favoured, the Cerchi and the Whites; the populace, on the other
hand, was taken with the dash and display of the more aristocratic
Blacks, and would gladly have seen Messer Corso--"il Barone," as they
called him--lord of the city. Rioting, in which Guido Cavalcanti
played a wild and fantastic part, was of daily occurrence, especially
in the Sesto di San Piero. The adherents of the Signoria had their
head-quarters in the Cerchi Palace, in the Via della Condotta; the
Blacks found their legal fortress in that of the Captains of the Parte
Guelfa in the Via delle Terme. At last, on May 1st, the two factions
"came to blood" in the Piazza di Santa Trinità on the occasion of a
dance of girls to usher in the May. On June 15th Dante was elected one
of the six Priors, to hold office till August 15th, and he at once
took a strong line in resisting all interference from Rome, and in
maintaining order within the city. In consequence of an assault upon
the officers of the Guilds on St. John's Eve, the Signoria, probably
on Dante's initiative, put under bounds a certain number of factious
magnates, chosen impartially from both parties, including Corso Donati
and Guido Cavalcanti. From his place of banishment at Sarzana, Guido,
sick to death, wrote the most pathetic of all his lyrics:--

     "Because I think not ever to return,
       Ballad, to Tuscany,--
       Go therefore thou for me
         Straight to my lady's face,
         Who, of her noble grace,
       Shall show thee courtesy.

            *       *       *       *       *

     "Surely thou knowest, Ballad, how that Death
       Assails me, till my life is almost sped:
     Thou knowest how my heart still travaileth
       Through the sore pangs which in my soul are bred:--
       My body being now so nearly dead,
         It cannot suffer more.
         Then, going, I implore
         That this my soul thou take
         (Nay, do so for my sake),
         When my heart sets it free."[10]

  [10] Rossetti's translation of the _ripresa_ and second stanza of the
  Ballata _Perch'i' no spero di tornar giammai_.

And at the end of August, when Dante had left office, Guido returned
to Florence with the rest of the Bianchi, only to die. For more than a
year the "white" burghers were supreme, not only in Florence, but
throughout a greater part of Tuscany; and in the following May they
procured the expulsion of the Blacks from Pistoia. But Corso Donati at
Rome was biding his time; and, on November 1st, 1301, Charles of
Valois, brother of King Philip of France, entered Florence with some
1200 horsemen, partly French and partly Italian,--ostensibly as papal
peacemaker, but preparing to "joust with the lance of Judas." In Santa
Maria Novella he solemnly swore, as the son of a king, to preserve the
peace and well-being of the city; and at once armed his followers.
Magnates and burghers alike, seeing themselves betrayed, began to
barricade their houses and streets. On the same day (November 5th)
Corso Donati, acting in unison with the French, appeared in the
suburbs, entered the city by a postern gate in the second walls, near
S. Piero Maggiore, and swept through the streets with an armed force,
burst open the prisons, and drove the Priors out of their new Palace.
For days the French and the Neri sacked the city and the contrada at
their will, Charles being only intent upon securing a large share of
the spoils for himself. But even he did not dare to alter the popular
constitution, and was forced to content himself with substituting
"black" for "white" burghers in the Signoria, and establishing a
Podestà of his own following, Cante de' Gabbrielli of Gubbio, in the
Palace of the Commune. An apparently genuine attempt on the part of
the Pope, by a second "peacemaker," to undo the harm that his first
had done, came to nothing; and the work of proscription commenced,
under the direction of the new Podestà. Dante was one of the first
victims. The two sentences against him (in each case with a few other
names) are dated January 27th, 1302, and March 10th--and there were to
be others later. It is the second decree that contains the famous
clause, condemning him to be burned to death, if ever he fall into the
power of the Commune. At the beginning of April all the leaders of the
"white" faction, who had not already fled or turned "black," with
their chief followers, magnates and burghers alike, were hounded into
exile; and Charles left Florence to enter upon an almost equally
shameful campaign in Sicily.

  [Illustration: ACROSS THE PONTE VECCHIO]

Dante is believed to have been absent from Florence on an embassy to
the Pope when Charles of Valois came, and to have heard the news of
his ruin at Siena as he hurried homewards--though both embassy and
absence have been questioned by Dante scholars of repute. His
ancestor, Cacciaguida, tells him in the _Paradiso_:--

     "Tu lascerai ogni cosa diletta
       più caramente, e questo è quello strale
       che l'arco dello esilio pria saetta.
     Tu proverai sì come sa di sale
       lo pane altrui, e com'è duro calle
       lo scendere e il salir per l'altrui scale."[11]

  [11] "Thou shall abandon everything beloved most dearly; this is the
  arrow which the bow of exile shall first shoot.

  "Thou shalt make trial of how salt doth taste another's bread, and how
  hard the path to descend and mount upon another's stair."
     Wicksteed's translation.

The rest of Dante's life was passed in exile, and only touches the
story of Florence indirectly at certain points. "Since it was the
pleasure of the citizens of the most beautiful and most famous
daughter of Rome, Florence," he tells us in his _Convivio_, "to cast
me forth from her most sweet bosom (in which I was born and nourished
up to the summit of my life, and in which, with her good will, I
desire with all my heart to rest my weary soul and end the time given
me), I have gone through almost all the parts to which this language
extends, a pilgrim, almost a beggar, showing against my will the wound
of fortune, which is wont unjustly to be ofttimes reputed to the
wounded."

Attempts of the exiles to win their return to Florence by force of
arms, with aid from the Ubaldini and the Tuscan Ghibellines, were
easily repressed. But the victorious Neri themselves now split into
two factions; the one, headed by Corso Donati and composed mainly of
magnates, had a kind of doubtful support in the favour of the
populace; the other, led by Rosso della Tosa, inclined to the Signoria
and the _popolo grosso_. It was something like the old contest between
Messer Corso and Vieri dei Cerchi, but with more entirely selfish
ends; and there was evidently going to be a hard tussle between Messer
Corso and Messer Rosso for the possession of the State. Civil war was
renewed in the city, and the confusion was heightened by the
restoration of a certain number of Bianchi, who were reconciled to the
Government. The new Pope, Benedict XI., was ardently striving to
pacify Florence and all Italy; and his legate, the Cardinal Niccolò da
Prato, took up the cause of the exiles. Pompous peace-meetings were
held in the Piazza di Santa Maria Novella, for the friars of St
Dominic--to which order the new Pope belonged--had the welfare of the
city deeply at heart; and at one of these meetings the exiled lawyer,
Ser Petracco dall'Ancisa (in a few days to be the father of Italy's
second poet), acted as the representative of his party. Attempts were
made to revive the May-day pageants of brighter days--but they only
resulted in a horrible disaster on the Ponte alla Carraia, of which
more presently. The fiends of faction broke loose again; and in order
to annihilate the Cavalcanti, who were still rich and powerful round
about the Mercato Nuovo, the leaders of the Neri deliberately burned a
large portion of the city. On July 20th, 1304, an attempt by the now
allied Bianchi and Ghibellines to surprise the city proved a
disastrous failure; and, on that very day (Dante being now far away at
Verona, forming a party by himself), Francesco di Petracco--who was to
call himself Petrarca and is called by us Petrarch--was born in exile
at Arezzo.

  [Illustration: MERCATO NUOVO, THE FLOWER MARKET]

This miserable chapter of Florentine history ended tragically in 1308,
with the death of Corso Donati. In his old age he had married a
daughter of Florence's deadliest foe, the great Ghibelline champion,
Uguccione della Faggiuola; and, in secret understanding with Uguccione
and the Cardinal Napoleone degli Orsini (Pope Clement V. had already
transferred the papal chair to Avignon and commenced the Babylonian
captivity), he was preparing to overthrow the Signoria, abolish the
Ordinances, and make himself Lord of Florence. But the people
anticipated him. On Sunday morning, October 16th, the Priors ordered
their great bell to be sounded; Corso was accused, condemned as a
traitor and rebel, and sentence pronounced in less than an hour; and
with the great Gonfalon of the People displayed, the forces of the
Commune, supported by the swordsmen of the Della Tosa and a band of
Catalan mercenaries in the service of the King of Naples, marched upon
the Piazza di San Piero Maggiore. Over the Corbizzi tower floated the
banner of the Donati, but only a handful of men gathered round the
fierce old noble who, himself unable by reason of his gout to bear
arms, encouraged them by his fiery words to hold out to the last. But
the soldiery of Uguccione never came, and not a single magnate in the
city stirred to aid him. Corso, forced at last to abandon his
position, broke through his enemies, and, hotly pursued, fled through
the Porta alla Croce. He was overtaken, captured, and barbarously
slain by the lances of the hireling soldiery, near the Badia di San
Salvi, at the instigation, as it was whispered, of Rosso della Tosa
and Pazzino dei Pazzi. The monks carried him, as he lay dying, into
the Abbey, where they gave him humble sepulchre for fear of the
people. With all his crimes, there was nothing small in anything that
Messer Corso did; he was a great spirit, one who could have
accomplished mighty things in other circumstances, but who could not
breathe freely in the atmosphere of a mercantile republic. "His life
was perilous," says Dino Compagni sententiously, "and his death was
blame-worthy."

A brief but glorious chapter follows, though denounced in Dante's
bitterest words. Hardly was Corso dead when, after their long
silence, the imperial trumpets were again heard in the Garden of the
Empire. Henry of Luxemburg, the last hero of the Middle Ages, elected
Emperor as Henry VII., crossed the Alps in September 1310, resolved to
heal the wounds of Italy, and to revive the fading mediæval dream of
the Holy Roman Empire. In three wild and terrible letters, Dante
announced to the princes and peoples of Italy the advent of this
"peaceful king," this "new Moses"; threatened the Florentines with the
vengeance of the Imperial Eagle; urged Cæsar on against the city--"the
sick sheep that infecteth all the flock of the Lord with her
contagion." But the Florentines rose to the occasion, and with the aid
of their ally, the King of Naples, formed what was practically an
Italian confederation to oppose the imperial invader. "It was at this
moment," writes Professor Villari, "that the small merchant republic
initiated a truly national policy, and became a great power in Italy."
From the middle of September till the end of October, 1312, the
imperial army lay round Florence. The Emperor, sick with fever, had
his head-quarters in San Salvi. But he dared not venture upon an
attack, although the fortifications were unfinished; and, in the
following August, the Signoria of Florence could write exultantly to
their allies, and announce "the blessed tidings" that "the most savage
tyrant, Henry, late Count of Luxemburg, whom the rebellious
persecutors of the Church, and treacherous foes of ourselves and you,
called King of the Romans and Emperor of Germany," had died at
Buonconvento.

But in the Empyrean Heaven of Heavens, in the mystical convent of
white stoles, Beatrice shows Dante the throne of glory prepared for
the soul of the noble-hearted Cæsar:--

     "In quel gran seggio, a che tu gli occhi tieni
       per la corona che già v'è su posta,
       prima che tu a queste nozze ceni,
     sederà l'alma, che fia giù agosta,
       dell'alto Enrico, ch'a drizzare Italia
       verrà in prima che ella sia disposta." [12]

  [12] "On that great seat where thou dost fix thine eyes, for the
  crown's sake already placed above it, ere at this wedding feast
  thyself do sup,

  "Shall sit the soul (on earth 'twill be imperial) of the lofty Henry,
  who shall come to straighten Italy ere she be ready for it."

After this, darker days fell upon Florence. Dante, with a renewed
sentence of death upon his head, was finishing his _Divina Commedia_
at Verona and Ravenna,--until, on September 14th, 1321, he passed away
in the latter city, with the music of the pine-forest in his ears and
the monuments of dead emperors before his dying eyes. Petrarch, after
a childhood spent at Carpentras, was studying law at Montpellier and
Bologna--until, on that famous April morning in Santa Chiara at
Avignon, he saw the golden-haired girl who made him the greatest
lyrist of the Middle Ages. It was in the year 1327 that Laura--if such
was really her name--thus crossed his path. Boccaccio, born at
Certaldo in 1313, the year of the Emperor Henry's death, was growing
up in Florence, a sharp and precocious boy. But the city was in a
woeful plight; harassed still by factious magnates and burghers,
plundered by foreign adventurers, who pretended to serve her, heavily
taxed by the Angevin sovereigns--the _Reali_--of Naples. Florence had
taken first King Robert, and then his son, Charles of Calabria, as
overlord, for defence against external foes (first Henry VII., then
Uguccione della Faggiuola, and then Castruccio Interminelli); and the
vicars of these Neapolitan princes replaced for a while the Podestàs;
their marshals robbed and corrupted; their Catalan soldiers clamoured
for pay. The wars with Uguccione and Castruccio were most disastrous
to the Republic; and the fortunate coincidence of the deaths of
Castruccio and Charles of Calabria, in 1328, gave Florence back her
liberty at the very moment when she no longer needed a defender.
Although the Florentines professed to regard this suzerainty of the
Reali di Napoli as an alliance rather than a subjection,--_compagnia e
non servitù_ as Machiavelli puts it--it was an undoubted relief when
it ended. The State was reorganised, and a new constitution confirmed
in a solemn Parliament held in the Piazza. Henceforth the nomination
of the Priors and Gonfaloniere was effected by lot, and controlled by
a complicated process of scrutiny; the old councils were all annulled;
and in future there were to be only two chief councils--the Council of
the People, composed of 300 _popolani_, presided over by the Captain,
and the Council of the Commune, of 250, presided over by the Podestà,
in which latter (as in former councils of the kind) both _popolani_
and _grandi_ could sit. Measures proposed by the Government were
submitted first to the Council of the People, and then, if approved,
to that of the Commune.

Within the next few years, in spite of famine, disease, and a terrible
inundation of the Arno in 1333, the Republic largely extended its
sway. Pistoia, Arezzo, and other places of less account owned its
signory; but an attempt to get possession of Lucca--with the
incongruous aid of the Germans--failed. After the flood, the work of
restoration was first directed by Giotto; and to this epoch we owe the
most beautiful building in Florence, the Campanile. The discontent,
excited by the mismanagement of the war against Lucca, threw the
Republic into the arms of a new and peculiarly atrocious tyrant,
Walter de Brienne, Duke of Athens, a French soldier of fortune,
connected by blood with the _Reali_ of Naples. Elected first as war
captain and chief justice, he acquired credit with the populace and
the magnates by his executions of unpopular burghers; and finally, on
September 8th, 1342, in the Piazza della Signoria, he was appointed
Lord of Florence for life, amidst the acclamations of the lowest
sections of the mob and the paid retainers of the treacherous nobles.
The Priors were driven from their palace, the books of the Ordinances
destroyed, and the Duke's banner erected upon the People's tower,
while the church bells rang out the _Te Deum_. Arezzo, Pistoia, Colle
di Val d'Elsa, San Gemignano, and Volterra acknowledged his rule; and
with a curious mixture of hypocrisy, immorality, and revolting
cruelty, he reigned as absolute lord until the following summer,
backed by French and Burgundian soldiers who flocked to him from all
quarters. By that time he had utterly disgusted all classes in the
State, even the magnates by whose favour he had won his throne and the
populace who had acclaimed him; and on the Feast of St. Anne, July
26th, 1343, there was a general rising. The instruments of his cruelty
were literally torn to pieces by the people, and he was besieged in
the Palazzo Vecchio, which he had transformed into a fortress, and at
length capitulated on August 3rd. The Sienese and Count Simone de'
Conti Guidi, who had come to mediate, took him over the Ponte
Rubaconte, through the Porta San Niccolò and thence into the
Casentino, where they made him solemnly ratify his abdication.

"Note," says Giovanni Villani, who was present at most of these things
and has given us a most vivid picture of them, "that even as the Duke
with fraud and treason took away the liberty of the Republic of
Florence on the day of Our Lady in September,[13] not regarding the
reverence due to her, so, as it were in divine vengeance, God
permitted that the free citizens with armed hand should win it back on
the day of her mother, Madonna Santa Anna, on the 26th day of July
1343; and for this grace it was ordained by the Commune that the Feast
of St. Anne should ever be kept like Easter in Florence, and that
there should be celebrated a solemn office and great offerings by the
Commune and all the Arts of Florence." St. Anne henceforth became the
chief patroness and protectoress of the Republic, as Fra Bartolommeo
painted her in his great unfinished picture in the Uffizi; and the
solemn office and offerings were duly paid and celebrated in Or San
Michele. One of Villani's minor grievances against the Duke is that he
introduced frivolous French fashions of dress into the city, instead
of the stately old Florentine costume, which the republicans
considered to be the authentic garb of ancient Rome. That there was
some ground for this complaint will readily be seen, by comparing the
figure of a French cavalier in the Allegory of the Church in the
Spanish Chapel at Santa Maria Novella (the figure formerly called
Cimabue and now sometimes said to represent Walter de Brienne
himself), with the simple grandeur and dignity of the dress worn by
the burghers on their tombs in Santa Croce, or by Dante in the Duomo
portrait.

  [13] _i.e._ The Nativity of the Blessed Virgin.

Only two months after the expulsion of the Duke of Athens, the great
quarrel between the magnates and the people was fought to a finish, in
September 1343. On the northern side of the Arno, the magnates made
head at the houses of the Adimari near San Giovanni, at the opening of
the present Via Calzaioli, where one of their towers still stands, at
the houses of the Pazzi and Donati in the Piazza di San Pier Maggiore,
and round those of the Cavalcanti in Mercato Nuovo. The people under
their great gonfalon and the standards of the companies, led by the
Medici and Rondinelli, stormed one position after another, forcing the
defenders to surrender. On the other side of the Arno, the magnates
and their retainers held the bridges and the narrow streets beyond.
The Porta San Giorgio was in their hands, and, through it,
reinforcements were hurried up from the country. Repulsed at the Ponte
Vecchio and the Ponte Rubaconte, the forces of the people with their
victorious standards at last carried the Ponte alla Carraia, which was
held by the Nerli; and next, joined by the populace of the Oltrarno,
forced the Rossi and Frescobaldi to yield. The Bardi alone remained;
and, in that narrow street which still bears their name, and on the
Ponte Vecchio and the Ponte Rubaconte, they withstood single-handed
the onslaught of the whole might of the people, until they were
assailed in the rear from the direction of the Via Romana. The
infuriated populace sacked their houses, destroyed and burned the
greater part of their palaces and towers. The long struggle between
_grandi_ and _popolani_ was thus ended at last. "This was the cause,"
says Machiavelli, "that Florence was stripped not only of all martial
skill, but also of all generosity." The government was again reformed,
and the minor arts admitted to a larger share; between the _popolo
grosso_ and them, between burghers and populace, lay the struggle now,
which was to end in the Medicean rule.

But on all these perpetual changes in the form of the government of
Florence the last word had, perhaps, been said in Dante's sarcastic
outburst a quarter of a century before:--

     "Atene e Lacedemone, che fenno
       l'antiche leggi, e furon sì civili,
       fecero al viver bene un picciol cenno
     verso di te, che fai tanto sottili
       provvedimenti, che a mezzo novembre
       non giunge quel che tu d'ottobre fili.
     Quante volte del tempo che rimembre,
       legge, moneta, offizio, e costume
       hai tu mutato, e rinnovato membre?
     E se ben ti ricordi, e vedi lume,
       vedrai te simigliante a quella inferma,
       che non può trovar posa in su le piume,
     ma con dar volta suo dolore scherma."[14]

  [14] _Purg. VI._--
     "Athens and Lacedæmon, they who made
       The ancient laws, and were so civilised,
       Made towards living well a little sign
     Compared with thee, who makest such fine-spun
       Provisions, that to middle of November
       Reaches not what thou in October spinnest.
     How oft, within the time of thy remembrance,
       Laws, money, offices and usages
       Hast thou remodelled, and renewed thy members?
     And if thou mind thee well, and see the light,
       Thou shalt behold thyself like a sick woman,
       Who cannot find repose upon her down,
     But by her tossing wardeth off her pain."
         --_Longfellow._

The terrible pestilence, known as the Black Death, swept over Europe
in 1348. During the five months in which it devastated Florence
three-fifths of the population perished, all civic life was suspended,
and the gayest and most beautiful of cities seemed for a while to be
transformed into the dim valley of disease and sin that lies
outstretched at the bottom of Dante's Malebolge. It has been
described, in all its horrors, in one of the most famous passages of
modern prose--that appalling introduction to Boccaccio's _Decameron_.
From the city in her agony, Boccaccio's three noble youths and seven
"honest ladies" fled to the villas of Settignano and Fiesole, where
they strove to drown the horror of the time by their music and
dancing, their feasting and too often sadly obscene stories. Giovanni
Villani was among the victims in Florence, and Petrarch's Laura at
Avignon. The first canto of Petrarch's _Triumph of Death_ appears to
be, in part, an allegorical representation--written many years
later--of this fearful year.

During the third quarter of this fourteenth century--the years which
still saw the Popes remaining in their Babylonian exile at
Avignon--the Florentines gradually regained their lost supremacy over
the cities of Tuscany: Colle di Val d'Elsa, San Gemignano, Prato,
Pistoia, Volterra, San Miniato dei Tedeschi. They carried on a war
with the formidable tyrant of Milan, the Archbishop Giovanni Visconti,
whose growing power was a perpetual menace to the liberties of the
Tuscan communes. They made good use of the descent of the feeble
emperor, Charles IV., into Italy; waged a new war with their old
rival, Pisa; and readily accommodated themselves to the baser
conditions of warfare that prevailed, now that Italy was the prey of
the companies of mercenaries, ready to be hired by whatever prince or
republic could afford the largest pay, or to fall upon whatever city
seemed most likely to yield the heaviest ransom. Within the State
itself the _popolo minuto_ and the Minor Guilds were advancing in
power; Florence was now divided into four quarters (San Giovanni,
Santa Maria Novella, Santa Croce, Santo Spirito), instead of the old
Sesti; and the Signoria was now composed of the Gonfaloniere and
_eight_ Priors, two from each quarter (instead of the former six), of
whom two belonged to the Minor Arts. These, of course, still held
office for only two months. Next came the twelve Buonuomini, who were
the counsellors of the Signoria, and held office for three months;
and the sixteen Gonfaloniers of the city companies, four from each
quarter, holding office for four months. And there were, as before,
the two great Councils of the People and the Commune; and still the
three great officers who carried out their decrees, the Podestà, the
Captain, the Executor of Justice. The feuds of Ricci and Albizzi kept
up the inevitable factions, much as the Buondelmonti and Uberti,
Cerchi and Donati had done of old; and an iniquitous system of
"admonishing" those who were suspected of Ghibelline descent (the
_ammoniti_ being excluded from office under heavy penalties) threw
much power into the hands of the captains of the Parte Guelfa, whose
oppressive conduct earned them deadly hatred. "To such arrogance,"
says Machiavelli, "did the captains of the Party mount, that they were
feared more than the members of the Signoria, and less reverence was
paid to the latter than to the former; the palace of the Party was
more esteemed than that of the Signoria, so that no ambassador came to
Florence without having commissions to the captains."

  [Illustration: THE CAMPANILE]

Pope Gregory XI preceded his return to Rome by an attempted reconquest
of the States of the Church, by means of foreign legates and hireling
soldiers, of whom the worst were Bretons and English; although St.
Catherine of Siena implored him, in the name of Christ, to come with
the Cross in hand, like a meek lamb, and not with armed bands. The
horrible atrocities committed in Romagna by these mercenaries,
especially at Faenza and Cesena, stained what might have been a noble
pontificate. Against Pope Gregory and his legates, the Florentines
carried on a long and disastrous war; round the Otto della Guerra, the
eight magistrates to whom the management of the war was intrusted,
rallied those who hated the Parte Guelfa. The return of Gregory to
Rome in 1377 opens a new epoch in Italian history. Echoes of this
unnatural struggle between Florence and the Pope reach us in the
letters of St Catherine and the canzoni of Franco Sacchetti; in the
latter is some faint sound of Dante's _saeva indignatio_ against the
unworthy pastors of the Church, but in the former we are lifted far
above the miserable realities of a conflict carried on by political
intrigue and foreign mercenaries, into the mystical realms of pure
faith and divine charity.

In 1376, the Loggia dei Priori, now less pleasantly known as the
Loggia dei Lanzi, was founded; and in 1378 the bulk of the Duomo was
practically completed. This may be taken as the close of the first or
"heroic" epoch of Florentine Art, which runs simultaneously with the
great democratic period of Florentine history, represented in
literature by Dante and Boccaccio. The Duomo, the Palace of the
Podestà, the Palace of the Priors, Santa Maria Novella, Santa Croce,
Or San Michele, the Loggia of the Bigallo, and the Third Walls of the
City (of which, on the northern side of the Arno, the gates alone
remain), are its supreme monuments in architecture. Its heroes of
greatest name are Arnolfo di Cambio, Giotto di Bondone, Andrea Pisano,
Andrea di Cione or Orcagna (the "Archangel"), and, lastly and but
recently recognised, Francesco Talenti.

"No Italian architect," says Addington Symonds, "has enjoyed the proud
privilege of stamping his own individuality more strongly on his
native city than Arnolfo." At present, the walls of the city (or what
remains of them)--_le mura di Fiorenza_ which Lapo Gianni would fain
see _inargentate_--and the bulk of the Palazzo Vecchio and Santa
Croce, alone represent Arnolfo's work. But the Duomo (mainly, in its
present form, due to Francesco Talenti) probably still retains in
part his design; and the glorious Church of Or San Michele, of which
the actual architect is not certainly known, stands on the site of his
Loggia.

Giovanni Cimabue, the father of Florentine painting as Arnolfo of
Florentine architecture, survives only as a name in Dante's immortal
verse. Not a single authentic work remains from his hand in Florence.
His supposed portrait in the cloisters of Santa Maria Novella is now
held to be that of a French knight; the famous picture of the Madonna
and Child with her angelic ministers, in the Rucellai Chapel, is shown
to be the work of a Sienese master; and the other paintings once
ascribed to him have absolutely no claims to bear his name. But the
Borgo Allegro still bears its title from the rejoicings that hailed
his masterpiece, and perhaps it is best that his achievement should
thus live, only as a holy memory:--

     "Credette Cimabue nella pittura
     tener lo campo, ed ora ha Giotto il grido,
     sì che la fama di colui è oscura."[15]

  [15] "In painting Cimabue thought that he
       Should hold the field, now Giotto has the cry,
       So that the other's fame is growing dim."

Of Cimabue's great pupil, Dante's friend and contemporary, Giotto, we
know and possess much more. Through him mediæval Italy first spoke out
through painting, and with no uncertain sound. He was born some ten
years later than Dante. Cimabue--or so the legend runs, which is told
by Leonardo da Vinci amongst others--found him among the mountains,
guarding his father's flocks and drawing upon the stones the movements
of the goats committed to his care. He was a typical Florentine
craftsman; favoured by popes, admitted to the familiarity of kings, he
remained to the end the same unspoilt shepherd whom Cimabue had found.
Many choice and piquant tales are told by the novelists about his
ugly presence and rare personality, his perpetual good humour, his
sharp and witty answers to king and rustic alike, his hatred of all
pretentiousness, carried to such an extent that he conceived a rooted
objection to hearing himself called _maestro_. Padua and Assisi
possess some of his very best work; but Florence can still show much.
Two chapels in Santa Croce are painted by his hand; of the smaller
pictures ascribed to him in churches and galleries, there is one
authentic--the Madonna in the Accademia; and, perhaps most beautiful
of all, the Campanile which he designed and commenced still rises in
the midst of the city. Giotto died in 1336; his work was carried on by
Andrea Pisano and practically finished by Francesco Talenti.

Andrea di Ugolino Pisano (1270-1348), usually simply called Andrea
Pisano, is similarly the father of Florentine sculpture. Vasari's
curiously inaccurate account of him has somewhat blurred his real
figure in the history of art. His great achievements are the casting
of the first gate of the Baptistery in bronze, his work--apparently
from Giotto's designs--in the lower series of marble reliefs round the
Campanile, and his continuation of the Campanile itself after Giotto's
death. He is said by Vasari to have built the Porta di San Frediano.

There is little individuality in the followers of Giotto, who carried
on his tradition and worked in his manner. They are very much below
their master, and are often surpassed by the contemporary painters of
Siena, such as Simone Martini and Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Taddeo Gaddi
and his son, Agnolo, Giovanni di Milano, Bernardo Daddi, are their
leaders; the chief title to fame of the first-named being the renowned
Ponte Vecchio. But their total achievement, in conjunction with the
Sienese, was of heroic magnitude. They covered the walls of churches
and chapels, especially those connected with the Franciscans and
Dominicans, with the scenes of Scripture, with the lives of Madonna
and her saints; they set forth in all its fullness the whole Gospel
story, for those who could neither read nor write; they conceived vast
allegories of human life and human destinies; they filled the palaces
of the republics with painted parables of good government. "By the
grace of God," says a statute of Sienese painters, "we are the men who
make manifest to the ignorant and unlettered the miraculous things
achieved by the power and virtue of the Faith." At Siena, at Pisa and
at Assisi, are perhaps the greatest works of this school; but here, in
Santa Croce and Santa Maria Novella, there is much, and of a very
noble and characteristic kind. Spinello Aretino (1333-1410) may be
regarded as the last of the Giotteschi; you may see his best series of
frescoes in San Miniato, setting forth with much skill and power the
life of the great Italian monk, whose face Dante so earnestly prayed
to behold unveiled in Paradise.

This heroic age of sculpture and painting culminated in Andrea Orcagna
(1308-1368), Andrea Pisano's great pupil. Painter and sculptor,
architect and poet, Orcagna is at once the inheritor of Niccolò and
Giovanni Pisano, and of Giotto. The famous frescoes in the Pisan Campo
Santo are now known to be the work of some other hand; his paintings
in Santa Croce, with their priceless portraits, have perished; and,
although frequently consulted in the construction of the Duomo, it is
tolerably certain that he was not the architect of any of the
Florentine buildings once ascribed to him. The Strozzi chapel of St
Thomas in Santa Maria Novella, the oratory of the Madonna in San
Michele in Orto, contain all his extant works; and they are
sufficient to prove him, next to Giotto, the greatest painter of his
century, with a feeling for grace and beauty even above Giotto's, and
only less excellent in marble. Several of his poems have been
preserved, mostly of a slightly satirical character; one, a sonnet on
the nature of love, _Molti volendo dir che fosse Amore_, has had the
honour of being ascribed to Dante.

With the third quarter of the century, the first great epoch of
Italian letters closes also. On the overthrow of the House of Suabia
at Benevento, the centre of culture had shifted from Sicily to
Tuscany, from Palermo to Florence. The prose and poetry of this epoch
is almost entirely Tuscan, although the second of its greatest poets,
Francesco Petrarca, comparatively seldom set foot within its
boundaries. "My old nest is restored to me," he wrote to the Signoria,
when they sent Boccaccio to invite his friend to return to Florence,
"I can fly back to it, and I can fold there my wandering wings." But,
save for a few flying visits, Petrarch had little inclination to
attach himself to one city, when he felt that all Italy was his
country.

Dante had set forth all that was noblest in mediæval thought in
imperishable form, supremely in his _Divina Commedia_, but appreciably
and nobly in his various minor works as well, both verse and prose.
Villani had started historical Italian prose on its triumphant course.
Petrarch and Boccaccio, besides their great gifts to Italian
literature, in the ethereal poetry of the one, painting every varying
mood of the human soul, and the licentious prose of the other, hymning
the triumph of the flesh, stand on the threshold of the Renaissance.
Other names crowd in upon us at each stage of this epoch. Apart from
his rare personality, Guido Cavalcanti's _ballate_ are his chief title
to poetic fame, but, even so, less than the monument of glory that
Dante has reared to him in the _Vita Nuova_, in the _De Vulgari
Eloquentia_, in the _Divina Commedia_. Dino Compagni, the chronicler
of the Whites and Blacks, was only less admirable as a patriot than as
a historian. Matteo Villani, the brother of Giovanni, and Matteo's
son, Filippo, carried on the great chronicler's work. Fra Jacopo
Passavanti, the Dominican prior of Santa Maria Novella, in the middle
of the century, showed how the purest Florentine vernacular could be
used for the purpose of simple religious edification. Franco
Sacchetti, politician, novelist and poet, may be taken as the last
Florentine writer of this period; he anticipates the popular lyrism of
the Quattrocento, rather in the same way as a group of scholars who at
the same time gathered round the Augustinian, Luigi Marsili, in his
cell at Santo Spirito heralds the coming of the humanists. It fell to
Franco Sacchetti to sing the dirge of this heroic period of art and
letters, in his elegiac canzoni on the deaths of Petrarch and
Boccaccio:--

     "Sonati sono i corni
     d'ogni parte a ricolta;
     la stagione è rivolta:
     se tornerà non so, ma credo tardi."

  [Illustration: CROSS OF THE FLORENTINE PEOPLE (FROM OLD HOUSE ON NORTH
  SIDE OF DUOMO)]




CHAPTER III

_The Medici and the Quattrocento_

   "Tiranno è nome di uomo di mala vita, e pessimo fra tutti gli
   altri uomini, che per forza sopra tutti vuol regnare, massime
   quello che di cittadino è fatto tiranno."--_Savonarola._

   "The Renaissance of the fifteenth century was in many things
   great, rather by what it designed or aspired to do, than by what
   it actually achieved."--_Walter Pater._


_Non già Salvestro ma Salvator mundi_, "thou that with noble wisdom
hast saved thy country." Thus in a sonnet does Franco Sacchetti hail
Salvestro dei Medici, the originator of the greatness of his house. In
1378, while the hatred between the Parte Guelfa and the adherents of
the Otto della Guerra--the rivalry between the Palace of the Party and
the Palace of the Signory--was at its height, the Captains of the
Party conspired to seize upon the Palace of the Priors and take
possession of the State. Their plans were frustrated by Salvestro dei
Medici, a rich merchant and head of his ambitious and rising family,
who was then Gonfaloniere of Justice. He proposed to restore the
Ordinances against the magnates, and, when this petition was rejected
by the Signoria and the Colleges,[16] he appealed to the Council of
the People. The result was a riot, followed by a long series of
tumults throughout the city; the _Arti Minori_ came to the front in
arms; and, finally, the bloody revolution known as the Tumult of the
Ciompi burst over Florence. These Ciompi, the lowest class of artizans
and all those who were not represented in the Arts, headed by those
who were subject to the great Arte della Lana, had been much favoured
by the Duke of Athens, and had been given consuls and a standard with
an angel painted upon it. On the fall of the Duke, these Ciompi, or
_popolo minuto_, had lost these privileges, and were probably much
oppressed by the consuls of the Arte della Lana. Secretly instigated
by Salvestro--who thus initiated the Medicean policy of undermining
the Republic by means of the populace--they rose _en masse_ on July
20th, captured the Palace of the Podestà, burnt the houses of their
enemies and the Bottega of the Arte della Lana, seized the standard of
the people, and, with it and the banners of the Guilds displayed, came
into the Piazza to demand a share in the government. On July 22nd they
burst into the Palace of the Priors, headed by a wool-comber, Michele
di Lando, carrying in his hands the great Gonfalon; him they acclaimed
Gonfaloniere and lord of the city.

  [16] The "Colleges" were the twelve Buonuomini and the sixteen
  Gonfaloniers of the Companies. Measures proposed by the Signoria had
  to be carried in the Colleges before being submitted to the Council of
  the People, and afterwards to the Council of the Commune.

This rough and half-naked wool-comber, whose mother made pots and pans
and whose wife sold greens, is one of the heroes of Florentine
history; and his noble simplicity throughout the whole affair is in
striking contrast with the self-seeking and intrigues of the rich
aristocratic merchants whose tool, to some extent, he appears to have
been. The pious historian, Jacopo Nardi, likens him to the heroes of
ancient Rome, Curius and Fabricius, and ranks him as a patriot and
deliverer of the city, far above even Farinata degli Uberti. The next
day the Parliament was duly summoned in the Piazza, Michele confirmed
in his office, and a Balìa (or commission) given to him, together with
the Eight and the Syndics of the Arts, to reform the State and elect
the new Signoria--in which the newly constituted Guilds of the
populace were to have a third with those of the greater and minor
Arts. But, before Michele's term of office was over, the Ciompi were
in arms again, fiercer than ever and with more outrageous demands,
following the standards of the Angel and some of the minor Arts (who
appear to have in part joined them). From Santa Maria Novella, their
chosen head-quarters, on the last day of August they sent two
representatives to overawe the Signoria. But Michele di Lando,
answering their insolence with violence, rode through the city with
the standard of Justice floating before him, while the great bell of
the Priors' tower called the Guilds to arms; and by evening the
populace had melted away, and the government of the people was
re-established. The new Signoria was greeted in a canzone by
Sacchetti, in which he declares that Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and
Temperance are once more reinstated in the city.

For the next few years the Minor Arts predominated in the government.
Salvestro dei Medici kept in the background, but was presently
banished. Michele di Lando seemed contented to have saved the State,
and took little further share in the politics of the city. He appears
later on to have been put under bounds at Chioggia; but to have
returned to Florence before his death in 1401, when he was buried in
Santa Croce. There were still tumults and conspiracies, resulting in
frequent executions and banishments; while, without, inglorious wars
were carried on by the companies of mercenary soldiers. This is the
epoch in which the great English captain, Hawkwood, entered the
service of the Florentine State. In 1382, after the execution of
Giorgio Scali and the banishment of Tommaso Strozzi (noble burghers
who headed the populace), the newly constituted Guilds were abolished,
and the government returned to the greater Arts, who now held
two-thirds of the offices--a proportion which was later increased to
three-quarters.

The period which follows, from 1382 to 1434, sees the close of the
democratic government of Florence. The Republic, nominally still ruled
by the greater Guilds, is in reality sustained and swayed by the
_nobili popolani_ or _Ottimati_, members of wealthy families risen by
riches or talent out of these greater Guilds into a new kind of
burgher aristocracy. The struggle is now no longer between the Palace
of the Signory and the Palace of the Party--for the days of the power
of the Parte Guelfa are at an end--but between the Palace and the
Piazza. The party of the Minor Arts and the Populace is repressed and
ground down with war taxes; but behind them the Medici lurk and
wait--first Vieri, then Giovanni di Averardo, then Cosimo di
Giovanni--ever on the watch to put themselves at their head, and
through them overturn the State. The party of the Ottimati is first
led by Maso degli Albizzi, then by Niccolò da Uzzano, and lastly by
Rinaldo degli Albizzi and his adherents--illustrious citizens not
altogether unworthy of the great Republic that they swayed--the sort
of dignified civic patricians whose figures, a little later, were to
throng the frescoes of Masaccio and Ghirlandaio. But they were divided
among themselves, persecuted their adversaries with proscription and
banishment, thus making the exiles a perpetual source of danger to the
State, and they were hated by the populace because of the war taxes.
These wars were mainly carried on by mercenaries--who were now more
usually Italians than foreigners--and, in spite of frequent defeats,
generally ended well for Florence. Arezzo was purchased in 1384. A
fierce struggle was carried on a few years later (1390-1402) with the
"great serpent," Giovanni Galeazzo Visconti, who hoped to make himself
King of Italy by violence as he had made himself Duke of Milan by
treachery, and intended to be crowned in Florence. Pisa was finally
and cruelly conquered in 1406; Cortona was obtained as the result of a
prolonged war with King Ladislaus of Naples in 1414, in which the
Republic had seemed once more in danger of falling into the hands of a
foreign tyrant; and in 1421 Leghorn was sold to the Florentines by the
Genoese, thus opening the sea to their merchandise.

The deaths of Giovanni Galeazzo and Ladislaus freed the city from her
most formidable external foes; and for a while she became the seat of
the Papacy, the centre of Christendom. In 1419, after the schism, Pope
Martin V. took up his abode in Florence; the great condottiere,
Braccio, came with his victorious troops to do him honour; and the
deposed John XXIII. humbled himself before the new Pontiff, and was at
last laid to rest among the shadows of the Baptistery. In his _Storia
Florentina_ Guicciardini declares that the government at this epoch
was the wisest, the most glorious and the happiest that the city had
ever had. It was the dawn of the Renaissance, and Florence was already
full of artists and scholars, to whom these _nobili popolani_ were as
generous and as enlightened patrons as their successors, the Medici,
were to be. Even Cosimo's fervent admirer, the librarian Vespasiano
Bisticci, endorses Guicciardini's verdict: "In that time," he says,
"from 1422 to 1433, the city of Florence was in a most blissful state,
abounding with excellent men in every faculty, and it was full of
admirable citizens."

Maso degli Albizzi died in 1417; and his successors in the
oligarchy--the aged Niccolò da Uzzano, who stood throughout for
moderation, and the fiery but less competent Rinaldo degli
Albizzi--were no match for the rising and unscrupulous Medici. With
the Albizzi was associated the noblest and most generous Florentine of
the century, Palla Strozzi. The war with Filippo Visconti, resulting
in the disastrous rout of Zagonara, and an unjust campaign against
Lucca, in which horrible atrocities were committed by the Florentine
commissioner, Astorre Gianni, shook their government. Giovanni dei
Medici, the richest banker in Italy, was now the acknowledged head of
the opposition; he had been Gonfaloniere in 1421, but would not put
himself actively forward, although urged on by his sons, Cosimo and
Lorenzo. He died in 1429; Niccolò da Uzzano followed him to the grave
in 1432; and the final struggle between the fiercer spirits, Rinaldo
and Cosimo, was at hand. "All these citizens," said Niccolò, shortly
before his death, "some through ignorance, some through malice, are
ready to sell this republic; and, thanks to their good fortune, they
have found the purchaser."

Shortly before this date, Masaccio painted all the leading spirits of
the time in a fresco in the cloisters of the Carmine. This has been
destroyed, but you may see a fine contemporary portrait of Giovanni in
the Uffizi. The much admired and famous coloured bust in the Bargello,
called the portrait of Niccolò da Uzzano by Donatello, has probably
nothing to do either with Niccolò or with Donatello. Giovanni has the
air of a prosperous and unpretending Florentine tradesman, but with a
certain obvious parade of his lack of pushfulness.

In 1433 the storm broke. A Signory hostile to Cosimo being elected, he
was summoned to the Palace and imprisoned in an apartment high up in
the Tower, a place known as the Alberghettino. Rinaldo degli Albizzi
held the Piazza with his soldiery, and Cosimo heard the great bell
ringing to call the people to Parliament, to grant a Balìa to reform
the government and decide upon his fate. But he was too powerful at
home and abroad; his popularity with those whom he had raised from low
estate, and those whom he had relieved by his wealth, his influence
with the foreign powers, such as Venice and Ferrara, were so great
that his foes dared not take his life; and, indeed, they were hardly
the men to have attempted such a crime. Banished to Padua (his brother
Lorenzo and other members of his family being put under bounds at
different cities), he was received everywhere, not as a fugitive, but
as a prince; and the library of the Benedictines, built by Michelozzo
at his expense, once bore witness to his stay in Venice. Hardly a year
had passed when a new Signory was chosen, favourable to the Medici;
Rinaldo degli Albizzi, after a vain show of resistance, laid down his
arms on the intervention of Pope Eugenius, who was then at Santa Maria
Novella, and was banished for ever from the city with his principal
adherents. And finally, in a triumphant progress from Venice, "carried
back to his country upon the shoulders of all Italy," as he said,
Cosimo and his brother Lorenzo entered Florence on October 6th, 1434,
rode past the deserted palaces of the Albizzi to the Palace of the
Priors, and next day returned in triumph to their own house in the Via
Larga.

The Republic had practically fallen; the head of the Medici was
virtually prince of the city and of her fair dominion. But Florence
was not Milan or Naples, and Cosimo's part as tyrant was a peculiar
one. The forms of the government were, with modifications, preserved;
but by means of a Balìa empowered to elect the chief magistrates for
a period of five years, and then renewed every five years, he secured
that the Signoria should always be in his hands, or in those of his
adherents. The grand Palace of the Priors was still ostensibly the
seat of government; but, in reality, the State was in the firm grasp
of the thin, dark-faced merchant in the Palace in the Via Larga, which
we now know as the Palazzo Riccardi. Although in the earlier part of
his reign he was occasionally elected Gonfaloniere, he otherwise held
no office ostensibly, and affected the republican manner of a mere
wealthy citizen. His personality, combined with the widely ramifying
banking relations of the Medici, gave him an almost European
influence. His popularity among the mountaineers and in the country
districts, from which armed soldiery were ever ready to pour down into
the city in his defence, made him the fitting man for the ever
increasing external sway of Florence. The forms of the Republic were
preserved, but he consolidated his power by a general levelling and
disintegration, by severing the nerves of the State and breaking the
power of the Guilds. He had certain hard and cynical maxims for
guidance: "Better a city ruined than a city lost," "States are not
ruled by Pater-Nosters," "New and worthy citizens can be made by a few
ells of crimson cloth." So he elevated to wealth and power men of low
kind, devoted to and dependent on himself; crushed the families
opposed to him, or citizens who seemed too powerful, by wholesale
banishments, or by ruining them with fines and taxation, although
there was comparatively little blood shed. He was utterly ruthless in
all this, and many of the noblest Florentine citizens fell victims.
One murder must be laid to his charge, and it is one of peculiar, for
him, unusual atrocity. Baldaccio d'Anghiari, a young captain of
infantry, who promised fair to take a high place among the
condottieri of the day, was treacherously invited to speak with the
Gonfaloniere in the Palace of the Priors, and there stabbed to death
by hireling assassins from the hills, and his body flung ignominiously
into the Piazza. Cosimo's motive is said to have been partly jealousy
of a possible rival, Neri Capponi, who had won popularity by his
conquest of the Casentino for Florence in 1440, and who was intimate
with Baldaccio; and partly desire to gratify Francesco Sforza, whose
treacherous designs upon Milan he was furthering by the gold wrung
from his over-taxed Florentines, and to whose plans Baldaccio was
prepared to offer an obstacle.

Florence was still for a time the seat of the Papacy. In January 1439,
the Patriarch Joseph of Constantinople, and the Emperor of the East,
John Paleologus, came to meet Pope Eugenius for the Council of
Florence, which was intended to unite the Churches of Christendom. The
Patriarch died here, and is buried in Santa Maria Novella. In the
Riccardi Palace you may see him and the Emperor, forced, as it were,
to take part in the triumph of the Medici in Benozzo Gozzoli's
fresco--riding with them in the gorgeous train, that sets out
ostensibly to seek the Babe of Bethlehem, and evidently has no
intention of finding Him. Pope Eugenius returned to Rome in 1444; and
in 1453 Mahomet II. stormed Constantinople, and Greek exiles thronged
to Rome and Florence. In 1459, marvellous pageants greeted Pius II. in
the city, on his way to stir up the Crusade that never went.

In his foreign policy Cosimo inaugurated a totally new departure for
Florence; he commenced a line of action which was of the utmost
importance in Italian politics, and which his son and grandson carried
still further. The long wars with which the last of the Visconti,
Filippo Maria, harassed Italy and pressed Florence hard (in the last
of these Rinaldo degli Albizzi and the exiles approached near enough
to catch a distant glimpse of the city from which they were
relentlessly shut out), ended with his death in 1447. Cosimo dei
Medici now allied himself with the great condottiere, Francesco
Sforza, and aided him with money to make good his claims upon the
Duchy of Milan. Henceforth this new alliance between Florence and
Milan, between the Medici and the Sforza, although most odious in the
eyes of the Florentine people, became one of the chief factors in the
balance of power in Italy. Soon afterwards Alfonso, the Aragonese
ruler of Naples, entered into this triple alliance; Venice and Rome to
some extent being regarded as a double alliance to counterbalance
this. To these foreign princes Cosimo was almost as much prince of
Florence as they of their dominions; and by what was practically a
_coup d'état_ in 1459, Cosimo and his son Piero forcibly overthrew the
last attempt of their opponents to get the Signoria out of their
hands, and, by means of the creation of a new and permanent Council of
a hundred of their chief adherents, more firmly than ever secured
their hold upon the State.

  [Illustration: FLORENCE IN THE DAYS OF LORENZO THE MAGNIFICENT
  (_From an engraving, of about 1490, in the Berlin Museum_)]

In his private life Cosimo was the simplest and most unpretentious of
tyrants, and lived the life of a wealthy merchant-burgher of the day
in its nobler aspects. He was an ideal father, a perfect man of
business, an apparently kindly fellow-citizen to all. Above all things
he loved the society of artists and men of letters; Brunelleschi and
Michelozzo, Donatello and Fra Lippo Lippi--to name only a few more
intimately connected with him--found in him the most generous and
discerning of patrons; many of the noblest Early Renaissance churches
and convents in Florence and its neighbourhood are due to his
munificence--San Lorenzo and San Marco and the Badia of Fiesole are
the most typical--and he even founded a hospital in Jerusalem. To a
certain extent this was what we should now call "conscience money."
His friend and biographer, Vespasiano Bisticci, writes: "He did these
things because it appeared to him that he held money, not over well
acquired; and he was wont to say that to God he had never given so
much as to find Him on his books a debtor. And likewise he said: I
know the humours of this city; fifty years will not pass before we are
driven out; but the buildings will remain." The Greeks, who came to
the Council of Florence or fled from the in-coming Turk, stimulated
the study of their language and philosophy--though this had really
commenced in the days of the Republic, before the deaths of Petrarch
and Boccaccio--and found in Cosimo an ardent supporter. He founded
great libraries in San Marco and in the Badia of Fiesole, the former
with part of the codices collected by the scholar Niccolò Niccoli;
although he had banished the old Palla Strozzi, the true renovator of
the Florentine University, into hopeless exile. Into the Neo-Platonism
of the Renaissance Cosimo threw himself heart and soul. "To Cosimo,"
writes Burckhardt, "belongs the special glory of recognising in the
Platonic philosophy the fairest flower of the ancient world of
thought, of inspiring his friends with the same belief, and thus of
fostering within humanistic circles themselves another and a higher
resuscitation of antiquity." In a youth of Figline, Marsilio Ficino,
the son of a doctor, Cosimo found a future high priest of this new
religion of love and beauty; and bidding him minister to the minds of
men rather than to their bodies, brought him into his palace, and gave
him a house in the city and a beautiful farm near Careggi. Thus was
founded the famous Platonic Academy, the centre of the richest
Italian thought of the century. As his end drew near, Cosimo turned to
the consolations of religion, and would pass long hours in his chosen
cell in San Marco, communing with the Dominican Archbishop, Antonino,
and Fra Angelico, the painter of mediæval Paradise. And with these
thoughts, mingled with the readings of Marsilio's growing translation
of Plato, he passed away at his villa at Careggi in 1464, on the first
of August. Shortly before his death he had lost his favourite son,
Giovanni; and had been carried through his palace, in the Via Larga,
sighing that it was now too large a house for so small a family.
Entitled by public decree _Pater Patriae_, he was buried at his own
request without any pompous funeral, beneath a simple marble in front
of the high altar of San Lorenzo.

  [Illustration: THE BADIA OF FIESOLE]

Cosimo was succeeded, not without some opposition from rivals to the
Medici within their own party, by his son Piero. Piero's health was in
a shattered condition--il Gottoso, he was called--and for the most
part he lived in retirement at Careggi, occasionally carried into
Florence in his litter, leaving his brilliant young son Lorenzo to act
as a more ornamental figure-head for the State. The personal
appearance of Piero is very different to that of his father or son; in
his portrait bust by Mino da Fiesole in the Bargello, and in the
picture by Bronzino in the National Gallery, there is less craft and a
certain air of frank and manly resolution. In his daring move in
support of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, when, on the death of Francesco, it
seemed for a moment that the Milanese dynasty was tottering, and his
promptness in crushing the formidable conspiracy of the "mountain"
against himself, Piero showed that sickness had not destroyed his
faculty of energetic action at the critical moment. He completely
followed out his father's policy, drawing still tighter the bonds
which united Florence with Milan and Naples, lavishing money on the
decoration of the city and the corruption of the people. The
opposition was headed by Luca Pitti, Agnolo Acciaiuoli, Dietisalvi
Neroni and others, who had been reckoned as Cosimo's friends, but who
were now intriguing with Venice and Ferrara to overthrow his son.
Hoping to eclipse the Medici in their own special field of artistic
display and wholesale corruption, Luca Pitti commenced that enormous
palace which still bears the name of his family, filled it with bravos
and refugees, resorted to all means fair or foul to get money to build
and corrupt. It seemed for a moment that the adherents of the Mountain
(as the opponents of the Medici were called, from this highly situated
Pitti Palace) and the adherents of the Plain (where the comparatively
modest Medicean palace--now the Palazzo Riccardi--stood in the Via
Larga) might renew the old factions of Blacks and Whites. But in the
late summer of 1466 the party of the Mountain was finally crushed;
they were punished with more mercy than the Medici generally showed,
and Luca Pitti was practically pardoned and left to a dishonourable
old age in the unfinished palace, which was in after years to become
the residence of the successors of his foes. About the same time
Filippo Strozzi and other exiles were allowed to return, and another
great palace began to rear its walls in the Via Tornabuoni, in after
years to be a centre of anti-Medicean intrigue.

The brilliancy and splendour of Lorenzo's youth--he who was hereafter
to be known in history as the Magnificent--sheds a rich glow of colour
round the closing months of Piero's pain-haunted life. Piero himself
had been content with a Florentine wife, Lucrezia dei Tornabuoni, and
he had married his daughters to Florentine citizens, Guglielmo Pazzi
and Bernardo Rucellai; but Lorenzo must make a great foreign match,
and was therefore given Clarice Orsini, the daughter of a great Roman
noble. The splendid pageant in the Piazza Santa Croce, and the even
more gorgeous marriage festivities in the palace in the Via Larga,
were followed by a triumphal progress of the young bridegroom through
Tuscany and the Riviera to Milan, to the court of that faithful ally
of his house, but most abominable monster, Giovanni Maria Sforza.
Piero died on December 3rd, 1469, and, like Cosimo, desired the simple
burial which his sons piously gave him. His plain but beautiful
monument designed by Verrocchio is in the older sacristy of San
Lorenzo, where he lies with his brother Giovanni.

"The second day after his death," writes Lorenzo in his diary,
"although I, Lorenzo, was very young, in fact only in my twenty-first
year, the leading men of the city and of the ruling party came to our
house to express their sorrow for our misfortune, and to persuade me
to take upon myself the charge of the government of the city, as my
grandfather and father had already done. This proposal being contrary
to the instincts of my age, and entailing great labour and danger, I
accepted against my will, and only for the sake of protecting my
friends, and our own fortunes, for in Florence one can ill live in the
possession of wealth without control of the government."[17]

  [17] From Mr Armstrong's _Lorenzo de' Medici_.

These two youths, Lorenzo and Giuliano, were now, to all intents and
purposes, lords and masters of Florence. Lorenzo was the ruling
spirit; outwardly, in spite of his singularly harsh and
unprepossessing appearance, devoted to the cult of love and beauty,
delighting in sport and every kind of luxury, he was inwardly as hard
and cruel as tempered steel, and firmly fixed from the outset upon
developing the hardly defined prepotency of his house into a complete
personal despotism. You may see him as a gallant boy in Benozzo
Gozzoli's fresco in the palace of his father and grandfather, riding
under a bay tree, and crowned with roses; and then, in early manhood,
in Botticelli's famous Adoration of the Magi; and lastly, as a fully
developed, omniscient and all-embracing tyrant, in that truly terrible
picture by Vasari in the Uffizi, constructed out of contemporary
materials--surely as eloquent a sermon against the iniquity of tyranny
as the pages of Savonarola's _Reggimento di Firenze_. Giuliano was a
kindlier and gentler soul, completely given up to pleasure and
athletics; he lives for us still in many a picture from the hand of
Sandro Botticelli, sometimes directly portrayed, as in the painting
which Morelli bequeathed to Bergamo, more often idealised as Mars or
as Hermes; his love for the fair Simonetta inspired Botticellian
allegories and the most finished and courtly stanzas of Poliziano. The
sons of both these brothers were destined to sit upon the throne of
the Fisherman.

A long step in despotism was gained in 1470, when the two great
Councils of the People and the Commune were deprived of all their
functions, which were now invested in the thoroughly Medicean Council
of the Hundred. The next year Lorenzo's friend and ally, Galeazzo
Maria Sforza, with his Duchess and courtiers, came to Florence. They
were sumptuously received in the Medicean palace. The licence and
wantonness of these Milanese scandalised even the lax Florentines, and
largely added to the growing corruption of the city. The accidental
burning of Santo Spirito during the performance of a miracle play was
regarded as a certain sign of divine wrath. During his stay in
Florence the Duke, in contrast with whom the worst of the Medici seems
almost a saint, sat to one of the Pollaiuoli for the portrait still
seen in the Uffizi; by comparison with him even Lorenzo looks
charming; at the back of the picture there is a figure of Charity--but
the Duke has very appropriately driven it to the wall. Unpopular
though this Medicean-Sforza alliance was in Florence, it was
undoubtedly one of the safe-guards of the harmony which,
superficially, still existed between the five great powers of Italy.
When Galeazzo Maria met the fate he so richly deserved, and was
stabbed to death in the Church of San Stefano at Milan on December
20th, 1476, Pope Sixtus gave solemn utterance to the general dismay:
_Oggi è morta la pace d'Italia._

But Sixtus and his nephews did not in their hearts desire peace in
Italy, and were plotting against Lorenzo with the Pazzi, who, although
united to the Medici by marriage, had secret and growing grievances
against them. On the morning of Sunday April 26th, 1478, the
conspirators set upon the two brothers at Mass in the Duomo; Giuliano
perished beneath nineteen dagger-stabs; Lorenzo escaped with a slight
wound in the neck. The Archbishop Salviati of Pisa in the meantime
attempted to seize the Palace of the Priors, but was arrested by the
Gonfaloniere, and promptly hung out of the window for his trouble.
Jacopo Pazzi rode madly through the streets with an armed force,
calling the people to arms, with the old shout of _Popolo e Libertà_,
but was only answered by the ringing cries of _Palle, Palle_.[18] The
vengeance taken by the people upon the conspirators was so prompt and
terrible that Lorenzo had little left him to do (though that little he
did to excess, punishing the innocent with the guilty); and the result
of the plot simply was to leave him alone in the government, securely
enthroned above the splash of blood. The Pope appears not to have
been actually privy to the murder, but he promptly took up the cause
of the murderers. It was followed by a general break-up of the Italian
peace and a disastrous war, carried on mainly by mercenary soldiers,
in which all the powers of Italy were more or less engaged; and
Florence was terribly hard pressed by the allied forces of Naples and
Rome. The plague broke out in the city; Lorenzo was practically
deserted by his allies, and on the brink of financial ruin. Then was
it that he did one of the most noteworthy, perhaps the noblest, of the
actions of his life, and saved himself and the State by voluntarily
going to Naples and putting himself in the power of King Ferrante, an
infamous tyrant, who would readily have murdered his guest, if it had
seemed to his advantage to do so. But, like all the Italians of the
Renaissance, Ferrante was open to reason, and the eloquence of the
Magnifico won him over to grant an honourable peace, with which
Lorenzo returned to Florence in March 1480. "If Lorenzo was great when
he left Florence," writes Machiavelli, "he returned much greater than
ever; and he was received with such joy by the city as his great
qualities and his fresh merits deserved, seeing that he had exposed
his own life to restore peace to his country." Botticelli's noble
allegory of the olive-decked Medicean Pallas, taming the Centaur of
war and disorder, appears to have been painted in commemoration of
this event. In the following August the Turks landed in Italy and
stormed Otranto, and the need of union, in the face of "the common
enemy Ottoman," reconciled the Pope to Florence, and secured for the
time an uneasy peace among the powers of Italy.

  [18] The _Palle_, it will be remembered, were the golden balls on the
  Medicean arms, and hence the rallying cry of their adherents.

Lorenzo's power in Florence and influence throughout Italy was now
secure. By the institution in 1480 of a Council of Seventy, a
permanent council to manage and control the election of the Signoria
(with two special committees drawn from the Seventy every six months,
the _Otto di pratica_ for foreign affairs and the _Dodici Procuratori_
for internal), the State was firmly established in his hands--the
older councils still remaining, as was usual in every Florentine
reformation of government. Ten years later, in 1490, this council
showed signs of independence; and Lorenzo therefore reduced the
authority of electing the Signoria to a small committee with a
reforming Balìa of seventeen, of which he was one. Had he lived
longer, he would undoubtedly have crowned his policy either by being
made Gonfaloniere for life, or by obtaining some similar
constitutional confirmation of his position as head of the State.
Externally his influence was thrown into the scale for peace, and, on
the death of Sixtus IV. in 1484, he established friendly relations and
a family alliance with the new Pontiff, Innocent VIII. Sarzana with
Pietrasanta were won back for Florence, and portions of the Sienese
territory which had been lost during the war with Naples and the
Church; a virtual protectorate was established over portions of Umbria
and Romagna, where the daggers of assassins daily emptied the thrones
of minor tyrants. Two attempts on his life failed. In the last years
of his foreign policy and diplomacy he showed himself truly the
magnificent. East and West united to do him honour; the Sultan of the
Turks and the Soldan of Egypt sent ambassadors and presents; the
rulers of France and Germany treated him as an equal. Soon the torrent
of foreign invasion was to sweep over the Alps and inundate all the
"Ausonian" land; Milan and Naples were ready to rend each other;
Ludovico Sforza was plotting his own rise upon the ruin of Italy, and
already intriguing with France; but, for the present, Lorenzo
succeeded in maintaining the balance of power between the five great
Italian states, which seemed as though they might present a united
front for mutual defence against the coming of the barbarians.

_Sarebbe impossibile avesse avuto un tiranno migliore e più
piacevole_, writes Guicciardini: "Florence could not have had a better
or more delightful tyrant." The externals of life were splendid and
gorgeous indeed in the city where Lorenzo ruled, but everything was in
his hands and had virtually to proceed from him. His spies were
everywhere; marriages might only be arranged and celebrated according
to his good pleasure; the least sign of independence was promptly and
severely repressed. By perpetual festivities and splendid shows, he
strove to keep the minds of the citizens contented and occupied;
tournaments, pageants, masques and triumphs filled the streets; and
the strains of licentious songs, of which many were Lorenzo's own
composition, helped to sap the morality of that people which Dante had
once dreamed of as _sobria e pudica_. But around the Magnifico were
grouped the greatest artists and scholars of the age, who found in him
an enlightened Maecenas and most charming companion. _Amava
maravigliosamente qualunque era in una arte eccellente_, writes
Machiavelli of him; and that word--_maravigliosamente_--so entirely
characteristic of Lorenzo and his ways, occurs again and again,
repeated with studied persistence, in the chapter which closes
Machiavelli's History. He was said to have sounded the depths of
Platonic philosophy; he was a true poet, within certain limitations;
few men have been more keenly alive to beauty in all its
manifestations, physical and spiritual alike. Though profoundly
immoral, _nelle cose veneree maravigliosamente involto_, he was a
tolerable husband, and the fondest of fathers with his children, whom
he adored. The delight of his closing days was the elevation of his
favourite son, Giovanni, to the Cardinalate at the age of fourteen; it
gave the Medici a voice in the Curia like the other princes of Europe,
and pleased all Florence; but more than half Lorenzo's joy proceeded
from paternal pride and love, and the letter of advice which he wrote
for his son on the occasion shows both father and boy in a very
amiable, even edifying light. And yet this same man had ruined the
happiness of countless homes, and had even seized upon the doweries of
Florentine maidens to fill his own coffers and pay his mercenaries.

But the _bel viver italiano_ of the Quattrocento, with all its
loveliness and all its immorality--more lovely and far less immoral in
Florence than anywhere else--was drawing to an end. A new prophet had
arisen, and, from the pulpits of San Marco and Santa Maria del Fiore,
the stern Dominican, Fra Girolamo Savonarola, denounced the corruption
of the day and announced that speedy judgment was at hand; the Church
should be chastised, and that speedily, and renovation should follow.
Prodigies were seen. The lions tore and rent each other in their
cages; lightning struck the cupola of the Duomo on the side towards
the Medicean palace; while in his villa at Careggi the Magnifico lay
dying, watched over by his sister Bianca and the poet Poliziano. A
visit from the young Pico della Mirandola cheered his last hours. He
received the Last Sacraments, with every sign of contrition and
humility. Then Savonarola came to his bedside. There are two accounts
of what happened between these two terrible men, the corruptor of
Florence and the prophet of renovation, and they are altogether
inconsistent. The ultimate source of the one is apparently
Savonarola's fellow-martyr, Fra Silvestro, an utterly untrustworthy
witness; that of the other, Lorenzo's intimate, Poliziano. According
to Savonarola's biographers and adherents, Lorenzo, overwhelmed with
remorse and terror, had sent for the Frate to give him the absolution
which his courtly confessor dared not refuse (_io non ho mai trovato
uno che sia vero frate, se non lui_); and when the Dominican, seeming
to soar above his natural height, bade him restore liberty to
Florence, the Magnifico sullenly turned his back upon him and shortly
afterwards died in despair.[19] According to Poliziano, an eyewitness
and an absolutely whole-hearted adherent of the Medici, Fra Girolamo
simply spoke a few words of priestly exhortation to the dying man;
then, as he turned away, Lorenzo cried, "Your blessing, father, before
you depart" (_Heus, benedictionem, Pater, priusquam a nobis
proficisceris_) and the two together repeated word for word the
Church's prayers for the departing; then Savonarola returned to his
convent, and Lorenzo passed away in peace and consolation. Reverently
and solemnly the body was brought from Careggi to Florence, rested for
a while in San Marco, and was then buried, with all external
simplicity, with his murdered brother in San Lorenzo. It was the
beginning of April 1492, and the Magnifico was only in his
forty-fourth year. The words of old Sixtus must have risen to the lips
of many: _Oggi è morta la pace d'Italia_. "This man," said Ferrante of
Naples, "lived long enough to make good his own title to immortality,
but not long enough for Italy."

  [19] The familiar legend that Lorenzo told Savonarola that the three
  sins which lay heaviest on his conscience were the sack of Volterra,
  the robbery of the Monte delle Doti, and the vengeance he had taken
  for the Pazzi conspiracy, is only valuable as showing what were
  popularly supposed by the Florentines to be his greatest crimes.

Lorenzo left three sons--Piero, who virtually succeeded him in the
same rather undefined princedom; the young Cardinal Giovanni; and
Giuliano. Their father was wont to call Piero the "mad," Giovanni the
"wise," Giuliano the "good"; and to a certain extent their after-lives
corresponded with his characterisation. There was also a boy Giulio,
Lorenzo's nephew, an illegitimate child of Giuliano the elder by a
girl of the lower class; him Lorenzo left to the charge of Cardinal
Giovanni--the future Pope Clement to the future Pope Leo. Piero had
none of his father's abilities, and was not the man to guide the ship
of State through the storm that was rising; he was a wild licentious
young fellow, devoted to sport and athletics, with a great shock of
dark hair; he was practically the only handsome member of his family,
as you may see in a peculiarly fascinating Botticellian portrait in
the Uffizi, where he is holding a medallion of his great grandfather
Cosimo, and gazing out of the picture with a rather pathetic
expression, as if the Florentines who set a price upon his head had
misunderstood him.

Piero's folly at once began to undo his father's work. A part of
Lorenzo's policy had been to keep his family united, including those
not belonging to the reigning branch. There were two young Medici then
in the city, about Piero's own age; Lorenzo and Giovanni di Pier
Francesco, the grandsons of Cosimo's brother Lorenzo (you may see
Giovanni with his father in a picture by Filippino Lippi in the
Uffizi). Lorenzo the Magnificent had made a point of keeping on good
terms with them, for they were beloved of the people. Giovanni was
destined, in a way, to play the part of Banquo to the Magnificent's
Macbeth, had there been a Florentine prophet to tell him, "Thou shalt
get kings though thou be none." But Piero disliked the two; at a dance
he struck Giovanni, and then, when the brothers showed resentment, he
arrested both and, not daring to take their lives, confined them to
their villas. And these were times when a stronger head than Piero's
might well have reeled. Italy's day had ended, and she was now to be
the battle-ground for the gigantic forces of the monarchies of Europe.
That same year in which Lorenzo died, Alexander VI. was elected to the
Papacy he had so shamelessly bought. A mysterious terror fell upon the
people; an agony of apprehension consumed their rulers throughout the
length and breadth of the land. In 1494 the crash came. The old King
Ferrante of Naples died, and his successor Alfonso prepared to meet
the torrent of French arms which Ludovico Sforza, the usurping Duke of
Milan, had invited into Italy.

       *       *       *       *       *

In art and in letters, as well as in life and general conduct, this
epoch of the Quattrocento is one of the most marvellous chapters in
the history of human thought; the Renaissance as a wave broke over
Italy, and from Italy surged on to the bounds of Europe. And of this
"discovery by man of himself and of the world," Florence was the
centre; in its hothouse of learning and culture the rarest
personalities flourished, and its strangest and most brilliant flower,
in whose hard brilliancy a suggestion of poison lurked, was Lorenzo
the Magnificent himself.

In both art and letters, the Renaissance had fully commenced before
the accession of the Medici to power. Ghiberti's first bronze gates of
the Baptistery and Masaccio's frescoes in the Carmine were executed
under the regime of the _nobili popolani_, the Albizzi and their
allies. Many of the men whom the Medici swept relentlessly from their
path were in the fore-front of the movement, such as the noble and
generous Palla Strozzi, one of the reformers of the Florentine Studio,
who brought the Greek, Emanuel Chrysolaras, at the close of the
fourteenth century, to make Florence the centre of Italian Hellenism.
Palla lavished his wealth in the hunting of codices, and at last, when
banished on Cosimo's return, died in harness at Padua at the venerable
age of ninety-two. His house had always been full of learned men, and
his reform of the university had brought throngs of students to
Florence. Put under bounds for ten years at Padua, he lived the life
of an ancient philosopher and of exemplary Christian virtue.
Persecuted at the end of every ten years with a new sentence, the
last--of ten more years--when he was eighty-two; robbed by death of
his wife and sons; he bore all with the utmost patience and fortitude,
until, in Vespasiano's words, "arrived at the age of ninety-two years,
in perfect health of body and of mind, he gave up his soul to his
Redeemer like a most faithful and good Christian."

In 1401, the first year of the fifteenth century, the competition was
announced for the second gates of the Baptistery, which marks the
beginning of Renaissance sculpture; and the same year witnessed the
birth of Masaccio, who, in the words of Leonardo da Vinci, "showed
with his perfect work how those painters who follow aught but Nature,
the mistress of the masters, laboured in vain," Morelli calls this
Quattrocento the epoch of "character"; "that is, the period when it
was the principal aim of art to seize and represent the outward
appearances of persons and things, determined by inward and moral
conditions." The intimate connection of arts and crafts is
characteristic of the Quattrocento, as also the mutual interaction of
art with art. Sculpture was in advance of painting in the opening
stage of the century, and, indeed, influenced it profoundly
throughout; about the middle of the century they met, and ran
henceforth hand in hand. Many of the painters and sculptors, as,
notably, Ghiberti and Botticelli, had been apprentices in the
workshops of the goldsmiths; nor would the greatest painters disdain
to undertake the adornment of a _cassone_, or chest for wedding
presents, nor the most illustrious sculptor decline a commission for
the button of a prelate's cope or some mere trifle of household
furniture. The medals in the National Museum and the metal work on the
exterior of the Strozzi Palace are as typical of the art of
Renaissance Florence as the grandest statues and most elaborate
altar-pieces.

  [Illustration: IN THE SCULPTORS' WORKSHOP
  BY NANNI DI BANCO
  (For the Guild of Masters in Stone and Timber)]

With the work of the individual artists we shall become better
acquainted in subsequent chapters. Here we can merely name their
leaders. In architecture and sculpture respectively, Filippo
Brunelleschi (1377-1446) and Donatello (1386-1466) are the ruling
spirits of the age. Their mutual friendship and brotherly rivalry
almost recall the loves of Dante and Cavalcanti in an earlier day.
Although Lorenzo Ghiberti (1378-1455) justly won the competition for
the second gates of the Baptistery, it is now thought that Filippo ran
his successful rival much more closely than the critics of an earlier
day supposed. Mr Perkins remarks that "indirectly Brunelleschi was the
master of all the great painters and sculptors of his time, for he
taught them how to apply science to art, and so far both Ghiberti and
Donatello were his pupils, but the last was almost literally so, since
the great architect was not only his friend, but also his counsellor
and guide." Contemporaneous with these three _spiriti magni_ in their
earlier works, and even to some extent anticipating them, is Nanni di
Banco (died in 1421), a most excellent master, both in large
monumental statues and in bas-reliefs, whose works are to be seen and
loved outside and inside the Duomo, and in the niches round San
Michele in Orto. A pleasant friendship united him with Donatello,
although to regard him as that supreme master's pupil and follower,
as Vasari does, is an anachronism. To this same earlier portion of the
Quattrocento belong Leo Battista Alberti (1405-1472), a rare genius,
but a wandering stone who, as an architect, accomplished comparatively
little; Michelozzo Michelozzi (1396-1472), who worked as a sculptor
with Ghiberti and Donatello, but is best known as the favoured
architect of the Medici, for whom he built the palace so often
mentioned in these pages, and now known as the Palazzo Riccardi, and
the convent of San Marco; and Luca della Robbia (1399-1482), that
beloved master of marble music, whose enamelled terra-cotta Madonnas
are a perpetual fund of the purest delight. To Michelozzo and Luca in
collaboration we owe the bronze gates of the Duomo sacristy, a work
only inferior to Ghiberti's "Gates of Paradise."

Slightly later come Donatello's great pupils, Desiderio da Settignano
(1428-1464), Andrea Verrocchio (1435-1488), and Antonio Pollaiuolo
(1429-1498). The two latter are almost equally famous as painters.
Contemporaneous with them are Mino da Fiesole, Bernardo and Antonio
Rossellino, Giuliano da San Gallo, Giuliano and Benedetto da Maiano,
of whom the last-named was the first architect of the Strozzi Palace.
The last great architect of the Quattrocento is Simone del Pollaiuolo,
known as Cronaca (1457-1508); and its last great sculptor is Andrea
della Robbia, Luca's nephew, who was born in 1435, and lived on until
1525. Andrea's best works--and they are very numerous indeed, in the
same enamelled terra-cotta--hardly yield in charm and fascination to
those of Luca himself; in some of them, devotional art seems to reach
its last perfection in sculpture. Giovanni, Andrea's son, and others
of the family carried on the tradition--with cruder colours and less
delicate feeling.

Masaccio (1401-1428), one of "the inheritors of unfulfilled renown,"
is the first great painter of the Renaissance, and bears much the same
relation to the fifteenth as Giotto to the fourteenth century.
Vasari's statement that Masaccio's master, Masolino, was Ghiberti's
assistant appears to be incorrect; but it illustrates the dependence
of the painting of this epoch upon sculpture. Masaccio's frescoes in
the Carmine, which became the school of all Italian painting, were
entirely executed before the Medicean regime. The Dominican, Fra
Angelico da Fiesole (1387-1455), seems in his San Marco frescoes to
bring the denizens of the Empyrean, of which the mediæval mystics
dreamed, down to earth to dwell among the black and white robed
children of St Dominic. The Carmelite, Fra Lippo Lippi (1406-1469),
the favourite of Cosimo, inferior to the angelical painter in
spiritual insight, had a keener eye for the beauty of the external
world and a surer touch upon reality. His buoyant humour and excellent
colouring make "the glad monk's gift" one of the most acceptable that
the Quattrocento has to offer us. Andrea del Castagno (died in 1457)
and Domenico Veneziano (died in 1461), together with Paolo Uccello
(died in 1475), were all absorbed in scientific researches with an eye
to the extension of the resources of their art; but the two former
found time to paint a few masterpieces in their kind--especially a
Cenacolo by Andrea in Santa Appollonia, which is the grandest
representation of its sublime theme, until the time that Leonardo da
Vinci painted on the walls of the Dominican convent at Milan. Problems
of the anatomical construction of the human frame and the rendering of
movement occupied Antonio Pollaiuolo (1429-1498) and Andrea Verrocchio
(1435-1488); their work was taken up and completed a little later by
two greater men, Luca Signorelli of Cortona and Leonardo da Vinci.

The Florentine painting of this epoch culminates in the work of two
men--Sandro di Mariano Filipepi, better known as Sandro Botticelli
(1447-1510), and Domenico Ghirlandaio (1449-1494). If the greatest
pictures were painted poems, as some have held, then Sandro
Botticelli's masterpieces would be among the greatest of all time. In
his rendering of religious themes, in his intensely poetic and
strangely wistful attitude towards the fair myths of antiquity, and in
his Neo-Platonic mingling of the two, he is the most complete and
typical exponent of the finest spirit of the Quattrocento, to which,
in spite of the date of his death, his art entirely belongs.
Domenico's function, on the other hand, is to translate the external
pomp and circumstance of his times into the most uninspired of painted
prose, but with enormous technical skill and with considerable power
of portraiture; this he effected above all in his ostensibly religious
frescoes in Santa Maria Novella and Santa Trinità. Elsewhere he shows
a certain pathetic sympathy with humbler life, as in his Santa Fina
frescoes at San Gemignano, and in the admirable Adoration of the
Shepherds in the Accademia; but this is a less characteristic vein.
Filippino Lippi (1457-1504), the son of the Carmelite and the pupil of
Botticelli, has a certain wayward charm, especially in his earlier
works, but as a rule falls much below his master. He may be regarded
as the last direct inheritor of the traditions of Masaccio. Associated
with these are two lesser men, who lived considerably beyond the
limits of the fifteenth century, but whose artistic methods never went
past it; Piero di Cosimo (1462-1521) and Lorenzo di Credi (1459-1537).
The former (called after Cosimo Rosselli, his master) was one of the
most piquant personalities in the art world of Florence, as all
readers of _Romola_ know. As a painter, he has been very much
overestimated; at his best, he is a sort of Botticelli, with the
Botticellian grace and the Botticellian poetry almost all left out. He
was magnificent at designing pageants; and of one of his exploits in
this kind, we shall hear more presently. Lorenzo di Credi,
Verrocchio's favourite pupil, was later, like Botticelli and others,
to fall under the spell of Fra Girolamo; his pictures breathe a true
religious sentiment and are very carefully finished; but for the most
part, though there are exceptions, they lack virility.

Before this epoch closed, the two greatest heroes of Florentine art
had appeared upon the scenes, but their great work lay still in the
future. Leonardo da Vinci (born in 1452) had learned to paint in the
school of Verrocchio; but painting was to occupy but a small portion
of his time and labour. His mind roamed freely over every field of
human activity, and plunged deeply into every sphere of human thought;
nor is he adequately represented even by the greatest of the pictures
that he has left. There is nothing of him now in Florence, save a few
drawings in the Uffizi and an unfinished picture of the Epiphany.
Leonardo finished little, and, with that little, time and man have
dealt hardly. Michelangelo Buonarroti was born in the Casentino in
1475, and nurtured among the stone quarries of Settignano. At the age
of thirteen, his father apprenticed him to the Ghirlandaii, Domenico
and his brother David; and, with his friend and fellow-student,
Francesco Granacci, the boy began to frequent the gardens of the
Medici, near San Marco, where in the midst of a rich collection of
antiquities Donatello's pupil and successor, Bertoldo, directed a kind
of Academy. Here Michelangelo attracted the attention of Lorenzo
himself, by the head of an old satyr which he had hammered out of a
piece of marble that fell to his hand; and the Magnifico took him into
his household. This youthful period in the great master's career was
occupied in drinking in culture from the Medicean circle, in studying
the antique and, of the moderns, especially the works of Donatello and
Masaccio. But, with the exception of a few early fragments from his
hand, Michelangelo's work commenced with his first visit to Rome, in
1496, and belongs to the following epoch.

Turning from art to letters, the Quattrocento is an intermediate
period between the mainly Tuscan literary movement of the fourteenth
century and the general Italian literature of the sixteenth. The first
part of this century is the time of the discovery of the old authors,
of the copying of manuscripts (printing was not introduced into
Florence until 1471), of the eager search for classical relics and
antiquities, the comparative neglect of Italian when Latinity became
the test of all. Florence was the centre of the Humanism of the
Renaissance, the revival of Grecian culture, the blending of
Christianity and Paganism, the aping of antiquity in theory and in
practice. In the pages of Vespasiano we are given a series of lifelike
portraits of the scholars of this epoch, who thronged to Florence,
served the State as Secretary of the Republic or occupied chairs in
her newly reorganised university, or basked in the sun of Strozzian or
Medicean patronage. Niccolò Niccoli, who died in 1437, is one of the
most typical of these scholars; an ardent collector of ancient
manuscripts, his library, purchased after his death by Cosimo dei
Medici, forms the nucleus of the Biblioteca Laurenziana. His house was
adorned with all that was held most choice and precious; he always
wore long sweeping red robes, and had his table covered with ancient
vases and precious Greek cups and the like. In fact he played the
ancient sage to such perfection that simply to watch him eat his
dinner was a liberal education in itself! _A vederlo in tavola, così
antico come era, era una gentilezza._

Vespasiano tells a delightful yarn of how one fine day this Niccolò
Niccoli, "who was another Socrates or another Cato for continence and
virtue," was taking a constitutional round the Palazzo del Podestà,
when he chanced to espy a youth of most comely aspect, one who was
entirely devoted to worldly pleasures and delights, young Piero Pazzi.
Calling him and learning his name, Niccolò proceeded to question him
as to his profession. "Having a high old time," answered the ingenuous
youth: _attendo a darmi buon tempo_. "Being thy father's son and so
handsome," said the Sage severely, "it is a shame that thou dost not
set thyself to learn the Latin language, which would be a great
ornament to thee; and if thou dost not learn it, thou wilt be esteemed
of no account; yea, when the flower of thy youth is past, thou shalt
find thyself without any _virtù_." Messer Piero was converted on the
spot; Niccolò straightway found him a master and provided him with
books; and the pleasure-loving youth became a scholar and a patron of
scholars. Vespasiano assures us that, if he had lived, _lo
inconveniente che seguitò_--so he euphoniously terms the Pazzi
conspiracy--would never have happened.

Leonardo Bruni is the nearest approach to a really great figure in the
Florentine literary world of the first half of the century. His
translations of Plato and Aristotle, especially the former, mark an
epoch. His Latin history of Florence shows genuine critical insight;
but he is, perhaps, best known at the present day by his little Life
of Dante in Italian, a charming and valuable sketch, which has
preserved for us some fragments of Dantesque letters and several bits
of really precious information about the divine poet, which seem to
be authentic and which we do not find elsewhere. Leonardo appears to
have undertaken it as a kind of holiday task, for recreation after the
work of composing his more ponderous history. As Secretary of the
Republic he exercised considerable political influence; his fame was
so great that people came to Florence only to look at him; on his
death in 1444, he was solemnly crowned on the bier as poet laureate,
and buried in Santa Croce with stately pomp and applauded funeral
orations. Leonardo's successors, Carlo Marsuppini (like him, an
Aretine by birth) and Poggio Bracciolini--the one noted for his frank
paganism, the other for the foulness of his literary invective--are
less attractive figures; though the latter was no less famous and
influential in his day. Giannozzo Manetti, who pronounced Bruni's
funeral oration, was noted for his eloquence and incorruptibility, and
stands out prominently amidst the scholars and humanists by virtue of
his nobleness of character; like that other hero of the new learning,
Palla Strozzi, he was driven into exile and persecuted by the
Mediceans.

Far more interesting are the men of light and learning who gathered
round Lorenzo dei Medici in the latter half of the century. This is
the epoch of the Platonic Academy, which Marsilio Ficino had founded
under the auspices of Cosimo. The discussions held in the convent
retreat among the forests of Camaldoli, the meetings in the Badia at
the foot of Fiesole, the mystical banquets celebrated in Lorenzo's
villa at Careggi in honour of the anniversary of Plato's birth and
death, may have added little to the sum of man's philosophic thought;
but the Neo-Platonic religion of love and beauty, which was there
proclaimed to the modern world, has left eternal traces in the poetic
literature both of Italy and of England. Spenser and Shelley might
have sat with the nine guests, whose number honoured the nine Muses,
at the famous Platonic banquet at Careggi, of which Marsilio Ficino
himself has left us an account in his commentary on the _Symposium_.
You may read a later Italian echo of it, when Marsilio Ficino had
passed away and his academy was a thing of the past, in the
impassioned and rapturous discourse on love and beauty poured forth by
Pietro Bembo, at that wonderful daybreak which ends the discussions of
Urbino's courtiers in Castiglione's treatise. In a creed that could
find one formula to cover both the reception of the Stigmata by St
Francis and the mystical flights of the Platonic Socrates and
Plotinus; that could unite the Sibyls and Diotima with the Magdalene
and the Virgin Martyrs; many a perplexed Italian of that epoch might
find more than temporary rest for his soul.

Simultaneously with this new Platonic movement there came a great
revival of Italian literature, alike in poetry and in prose; what
Carducci calls _il rinascimento della vita italiana nella forma
classica_. The earlier humanists had scorned, or at least neglected
the language of Dante; and the circle that surrounded Lorenzo was
undoubtedly instrumental in this Italian reaction. Cristoforo Landini,
one of the principal members of the Platonic Academy, now wrote the
first Renaissance commentary upon the _Divina Commedia_; Leo Battista
Alberti, also a leader in these Platonic disputations, defended the
dignity of the Italian language, as Dante himself had done in an
earlier day. Lorenzo himself compiled the so-called _Raccolta
Aragonese_ of early Italian lyrics, and sent them to Frederick of
Aragon, together with a letter full of enthusiasm for the Tuscan
tongue, and with critical remarks on the individual poets of the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Upon the popular poetry of
Tuscany Lorenzo himself, and his favourite Angelo Ambrogini of
Montepulciano, better known as Poliziano, founded a new school of
Italian song. Luigi Pulci, the gay scoffer and cynical sceptic,
entertained the festive gatherings in the Medicean palace with his
wild tales, and, in his _Morgante Maggiore_, was practically the first
to work up the popular legends of Orlando and the Paladins into a
noteworthy poem--a poem of which Savonarola and his followers were
afterwards to burn every copy that fell into their hands.

Poliziano is at once the truest classical scholar, and, with the
possible exception of Boiardo (who belongs to Ferrara, and does not
come within the scope of the present volume), the greatest Italian
poet of the fifteenth century. He is, indeed, the last and most
perfect fruit of Florentine Humanism. His father, Benedetto Ambrogini,
had been murdered in Montepulciano by the faction hostile to the
Medici; and the boy Angelo, coming to Florence, and studying under
Ficino and his colleagues, was received into Lorenzo's household as
tutor to the younger Piero. His lectures at the Studio attracted
students from all Europe, and his labours in the field of textual
criticism won a fame that has lasted to the present day. In Italian he
wrote the _Orfeo_ in two days for performance at Mantua, when he was
eighteen, a lyrical tragedy which stamps him as the father of Italian
dramatic opera; the scene of the descent of Orpheus into Hades
contains lyrical passages of great melodiousness. Shortly before the
Pazzi conspiracy, he composed his famous _Stanze_ in celebration of a
tournament given by Giuliano dei Medici, and in honour of the _bella
Simonetta_. There is absolutely no "fundamental brain work" about
these exquisitely finished stanzas; but they are full of dainty
mythological pictures quite in the Botticellian style, overladen,
perhaps, with adulation of the reigning house and its _ben nato
Lauro_. In his lyrics he gave artistic form to the _rispetti_ and
_strambotti_ of the people, and wrote exceedingly musical _ballate_,
or _canzoni a ballo_, which are the best of their kind in the whole
range of Italian poetry. There is, however, little genuine passion in
his love poems for his lady, Madonna Ippolita Leoncina of Prato;
though in all that he wrote there is, as Villari puts it, "a fineness
of taste that was almost Greek."

Lorenzo dei Medici stands second to his friend as a poet; but he is a
good second. His early affection for the fair Lucrezia Donati, with
its inevitable sonnets and a commentary somewhat in the manner of
Dante's _Vita Nuova_, is more fanciful than earnest, although
Poliziano assures us of

     "La lunga fedeltà del franco Lauro."

But Lorenzo's intense love of external nature, his power of close
observation and graphic description, are more clearly shown in such
poems as the _Caccia col Falcone_ and the _Ambra_, written among the
woods and hills in the country round his new villa of Poggio a Caiano.
Elsewhere he gives free scope to the animal side of his sensual
nature, and in his famous _Canti carnascialeschi_, songs to be sung at
carnival and in masquerades, he at times revelled in pruriency, less
for its own sake than for the deliberate corruption of the
Florentines. And, for a time, their music drowned the impassioned
voice of Savonarola, whose stern cry of warning and exhortation to
repentance had for the nonce passed unheeded.

There is extant a miracle play from Lorenzo's hand, the acts of the
martyrs Giovanni and Paolo, who suffered in the days of the emperor
Julian. Two sides of Lorenzo's nature are ever in conflict--the
Lorenzo of the ballate and the carnival songs--the Lorenzo of the
_laude_ and spiritual poems, many of which have the unmistakable ring
of sincerity. And, in the story of his last days and the summoning of
Savonarola to his bed-side, the triumph of the man's spiritual side is
seen at the end; he is, indeed, in the position of the dying Julian of
his own play:--

     "Fallace vita! O nostra vana cura!
     Lo spirto è già fuor del mio petto spinto:
     O Cristo Galileo, tu hai vinto."

Such was likewise the attitude of several members of the Medicean
circle, when the crash came. Poliziano followed his friend and patron
to the grave, in September 1494; his last hours received the
consolations of religion from Savonarola's most devoted follower, Fra
Domenico da Pescia (of whom more anon); after death, he was robed in
the habit of St Dominic and buried in San Marco. Pico della Mirandola,
too, had been present at the Magnifico's death-bed, though not there
when the end actually came; he too, in 1494, received the Dominican
habit in death, and was buried by Savonarola's friars in San Marco.
Marsilio Ficino outlived his friends and denied Fra Girolamo; he died
in 1499, and lies at rest in the Duomo.

Of all these Medicean Platonists, Pico della Mirandola is the most
fascinating. A young Lombard noble of almost feminine beauty, full of
the pride of having mastered all the knowledge of his day, he first
came to Florence in 1480 or 1482, almost at the very moment in which
Marsilio Ficino finished his translation of Plato. He became at once
the chosen friend of all the choicest spirits of Lorenzo's circle. Not
only classical learning, but the mysterious East and the sacred lore
of the Jews had rendered up their treasures for his intellectual
feast; his mysticism shot far beyond even Ficino; all knowledge and
all religions were to him a revelation of the Deity. Not only to
Lorenzo and his associates did young Pico seem a phoenix of earthly
and celestial wisdom, _uomo quasi divino_ as Machiavelli puts it; but
even Savonarola in his _Triumphus Crucis_, written after Pico's death,
declares that, by reason of his loftiness of intellect and the
sublimity of his doctrine, he should be numbered amongst the miracles
of God and Nature. Pico had been much beloved of many women, and not
always a Platonic lover, but, towards the close of his short
flower-like life, he burnt "fyve bokes that in his youthe of wanton
versis of love with other lyke fantasies he had made," and all else
seemed absorbed in the vision of love Divine. "The substance that I
have left," he told his nephew, "I intend to give out to poor people,
and, fencing myself with the crucifix, barefoot walking about the
world, in every town and castle I purpose to preach of Christ."
Savonarola, to whom he had confided all the secrets of his heart, was
not the only martyr who revered the memory of the man whom Lorenzo the
Magnificent had loved. Thomas More translated his life and letters,
and reckoned him a saint. He would die at the time of the lilies, so a
lady had told Pico; and he died indeed on the very day that the golden
lilies on the royal standard of France were borne into Florence
through the Porta San Frediano--consoled with wondrous visions of the
Queen of Heaven, and speaking as though he beheld the heavens opened.

A month or two earlier, the pen had dropped from the hand of Matteo
Maria Boiardo, as he watched the French army descending the Alps; and
he brought his unfinished _Orlando Innamorato_ to an abrupt close, too
sick at heart to sing of the vain love of Fiordespina for
Brandiamante:--

     "Mentre che io canto, o Dio Redentore,
     Vedo l'Italia tutta a fiamma e foco,
     Per questi Galli, che con gran valore
     Vengon, per disertar non so che loco."

"Whilst I sing, Oh my God, I see all Italy in flame and fire, through
these Gauls, who with great valour come, to lay waste I know not what
place." On this note of vague terror, in the onrush of the barbarian
hosts, the Quattrocento closes.

  [Illustration: ARMS OF THE PAZZI]




CHAPTER IV

_From Fra Girolamo to Duke Cosimo_

   "Vedendo lo omnipotente Dio multiplicare li peccati della Italia,
   maxime nelli capi così ecclesiastici come seculari, non potendo
   più sostenere, determinò purgare la Chiesa sua per uno gran
   flagello. Et perchè come è scripto in Amos propheta, Non faciet
   Dominus Deus verbum nisi revelaverit secretum suum ad servos suos
   prophetas: volse per la salute delli suoi electi acciò che inanzi
   al flagello si preparassino ad sofferire, che nella Italia questo
   flagello fussi prenuntiato. Et essendo Firenze in mezzo la Italia
   come il core in mezzo il corpo, s'è dignato di eleggere questa
   città; nella quale siano tale cose prenuntiate: acciò che per lei
   si sparghino negli altri luoghi."--_Savonarola._


_Gladius Domini super terram cito et velociter_, "the Sword of the
Lord upon the earth soon and speedily." These words rang ever in the
ears of the Dominican friar who was now to eclipse the Medicean rulers
of Florence. Girolamo Savonarola, the grandson of a famous Paduan
physician who had settled at the court of Ferrara, had entered the
order of St Dominic at Bologna in 1474, moved by the great misery of
the world and the wickedness of men, and in 1481 had been sent to the
convent of San Marco at Florence. The corruption of the Church, the
vicious lives of her chief pastors, the growing immorality of the
people, the tyranny and oppression of their rulers, had entered into
his very soul--had found utterance in allegorical poetry, in an ode
_De Ruina Mundi_, written whilst still in the world, in another, _De
Ruina Ecclesiae_, composed in the silence of his Bolognese
cloister--that cloister which, in better days, had been hallowed by
the presence of St Dominic and the Angelical Doctor, Thomas Aquinas.
And he believed himself set by God as a watchman in the centre of
Italy, to announce to the people and princes that the sword was to
fall upon them: "If the sword come, and thou hast not announced it,"
said the spirit voice that spoke to him in the silence as the dæmon to
Socrates, "and they perish unwarned, I will require their blood at thy
hands and thou shalt bear the penalty."

But at first the Florentines would not hear him; the gay dancings and
the wild carnival songs of their rulers drowned his voice; courtly
preachers like the Augustinian of Santo Spirito, Fra Mariano da
Gennazano, laid more flattering unction to their souls. Other cities
were more ready; San Gemignano first heard the word of prophecy that
was soon to resound beneath the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore, even
as, some two hundred years before, she had listened to the speech of
Dante Alighieri. At the beginning of 1490, the Friar returned to
Florence and San Marco; and, on Sunday, August 1st, expounding the
Apocalypse in the Church of San Marco, he first set forth to the
Florentines the three cardinal points of his doctrine; first, the
Church was to be renovated; secondly, before this renovation, God
would send a great scourge upon all Italy; thirdly, these things would
come speedily. He preached the following Lent in the Duomo; and
thenceforth his great work of reforming Florence, and announcing the
impending judgments of God, went on its inspired way. "Go to Lorenzo
dei Medici," he said to the five citizens who came to him, at the
Magnifico's instigation, to urge him to let the future alone in his
sermons, "and bid him do penance for his sins, for God intends to
punish him and his"; and when elected Prior of San Marco in this same
year, 1491, he would neither enter Lorenzo's palace to salute the
patron of the convent, nor welcome him when he walked among the friars
in the garden.

Fra Girolamo was preaching the Lent in San Lorenzo, when the Magnifico
died; and, a few days later, he saw a wondrous vision, as he himself
tells us in the _Compendium Revelationum_. "In 1492," he says, "while
I was preaching the Lent in San Lorenzo at Florence, I saw, on the
night of Good Friday, two crosses. First, a black cross in the midst
of Rome, whereof the head touched the heaven and the arms stretched
forth over all the earth; and above it were written these words, _Crux
irae Dei_. After I had beheld it, suddenly I saw the sky grow dark,
and clouds fly through the air; winds, flashes of lightning and
thunderbolts drove across, hail, fire and swords rained down, and slew
a vast multitude of folk, so that few remained on the earth. And after
this, there came a sky right calm and bright, and I saw another cross,
of the same greatness as the first but of gold, rise up over
Jerusalem; the which was so resplendent that it illumined all the
world, and filled it all with flowers and joy; and above it was
written, _Crux misericordiae Dei_. And I saw all generations of men
and women come from all parts of the world, to adore it and embrace
it."

In the following August came the simoniacal election of Roderigo
Borgia to the Papacy, as Alexander VI.; and in Advent another vision
appeared to the prophet in his cell, which can only be told in Fra
Girolamo's own words:--

"I saw then in the year 1492, the night before the last sermon which I
gave that Advent in Santa Reparata, a hand in Heaven with a sword,
upon the which was written: _The sword of the Lord upon the earth,
soon and speedily_; and over the hand was written, _True and just are
the judgments of the Lord._ And it seemed that the arm of that hand
proceeded from three faces in one light, of which the first said: _The
iniquity of my sanctuary crieth to me from the earth._ The second
replied: _Therefore will I visit with a rod their iniquities, and with
stripes their sins._ The third said: _My mercy will I not remove from
it, nor will I harm it in my truth, and I will have mercy upon the
poor and the needy._ In like manner the first answered: _My people
have forgotten my commandments days without number._ The second
replied: _Therefore will I grind and break in pieces and will not have
mercy._ The third said: _I will be mindful of those who walk in my
precepts._ And straightway there came a great voice from all the three
faces, over all the world, and it said: _Hearken, all ye dwellers on
the earth; thus saith the Lord: I, the Lord, am speaking in my holy
zeal. Behold, the days shall come and I will unsheath my sword upon
you. Be ye converted therefore unto me, before my fury be
accomplished; for when the destruction cometh, ye shall seek peace and
there shall be none._ After these words it seemed to me that I saw the
whole world, and that the Angels descended from Heaven to earth,
arrayed in white, with a multitude of spotless stoles on their
shoulders and red crosses in their hands; and they went through the
world, offering to each man a white robe and a cross. Some men
accepted them and robed themselves with them. Some would not accept
them, although they did not impede the others who accepted them.
Others would neither accept them nor permit that the others should
accept them; and these were the tepid and the sapient of this world,
who made mock of them and strove to persuade the contrary. After this,
the hand turned the sword down towards the earth; and suddenly it
seemed that all the air grew dark with clouds, and that it rained
down swords and hail with great thunder and lightning and fire; and
there came upon the earth pestilence and famine and great tribulation.
And I saw the Angels go through the midst of the people, and give to
those who had the white robe and the cross in their hands a clear wine
to drink; and they drank and said: _How sweet in our mouths are thy
words, O Lord._ And the dregs at the bottom of the chalice they gave
to drink to the others, and they would not drink; and it seemed that
these would fain have been converted to penitence and could not, and
they said: _Wherefore dost thou forget us, Lord?_ And they wished to
lift up their eyes and look up to God, but they could not, so weighed
down were they with tribulations; for they were as though drunk, and
it seemed that their hearts had left their breasts, and they went
seeking the lusts of this world and found them not. And they walked
like senseless beings without heart. After this was done, I heard a
very great voice from those three faces, which said: _Hear ye then the
word of the Lord: for this have I waited for you, that I may have
mercy upon you. Come ye therefore to me, for I am kind and merciful,
extending mercy to all who call upon me. But if you will not, I will
turn my eyes from you for ever._ And it turned then to the just, and
said: _But rejoice, ye just, and exult, for when my short anger shall
have passed, I will break the horns of sinners, and the horns of the
just shall be exalted._ And suddenly everything disappeared, and it
was said to me: _Son, if sinners had eyes, they would surely see how
grievous and hard is this pestilence, and how sharp the sword._"[20]

  [20] This _Compendium of Revelations_ was, like the _Triumph of the
  Cross_, published both in Latin and in Italian simultaneously. I have
  rendered the above from the Italian version.

The French army, terrible beyond any that the Italians had seen, and
rendered even more terrible by the universal dread that filled all
men's minds at this moment, entered Italy. On September 9th, 1494,
Charles VIII. arrived at Asti, where he was received by Ludovico and
his court, while the Swiss sacked and massacred at Rapallo. Here was
the new Cyrus whom Savonarola had foretold, the leader chosen by God
to chastise Italy and reform the Church. While the vague terror
throughout the land was at its height, Savonarola, on September 21st,
ascended the pulpit of the Duomo, and poured forth so terrible a flood
of words on the text _Ecce ego adducam aquas diluvii super terram_,
that the densely packed audience were overwhelmed in agonised panic.
The bloodless mercenary conflicts of a century had reduced Italy to
helplessness; the Aragonese resistance collapsed, and, sacking and
slaughtering as they came, the French marched unopposed through
Lunigiana upon Tuscany. Piero dei Medici, who had favoured the
Aragonese in a half-hearted way, went to meet the French King,
surrendered Sarzana and Pietrasanta, the fortresses which his father
had won back for Florence, promised to cede Pisa and Leghorn, and made
an absolute submission. "Behold," cried Savonarola, a few days later,
"the sword has descended, the scourge has fallen, the prophecies are
being fulfilled; behold, it is the Lord who is leading on these
armies." And he bade the citizens fast and pray throughout the city:
it was for the sins of Italy and of Florence that these things had
happened; for the corruption of the Church, this tempest had arisen.

It was the republican hero, Piero Capponi, who now gave utterance to
the voice of the people. "Piero dei Medici," he said in the Council of
the Seventy called by the Signoria on November 4th, "is no longer fit
to rule the State: the Republic must provide for itself: the moment
has come to shake off this baby government." They prepared for
defence, but at the same time sent ambassadors to the "most Christian
King," and amongst these ambassadors was Savonarola. In the meantime
Piero dei Medici returned to Florence to find his government at an
end; the Signoria refused him admittance into the palace; the people
assailed him in the Piazza. He made a vain attempt to regain the State
by arms, but the despairing shouts of _Palle, Palle,_ which his
adherents and mercenaries raised, were drowned in the cries of _Popolo
e Libertà_, as the citizens, as in the old days of the Republic, heard
the great bell of the Palace tolling and saw the burghers once more in
arms. On the 9th of November Piero and Giuliano fled through the Porta
di San Gallo; the Cardinal Giovanni, who had shown more courage and
resource, soon followed, disguised as a friar. There was some pillage
done, but little bloodshed. The same day Pisa received the French
troops, and shook off the Florentine yoke--an example shortly followed
by other Tuscan cities. Florence had regained her liberty, but lost her
empire. But the King had listened to the words of Savonarola--words
preserved to us by the Friar himself in his _Compendium
Revelationum_--who had hailed him as the Minister of Christ, but
warned him sternly and fearlessly that, if he abused his power over
Florence, the strength which God had given him would be shattered.

On November 17th Charles, clad in black velvet with mantle of gold
brocade and splendidly mounted, rode into Florence, as though into a
conquered city, with lance levelled, through the Porta di San
Frediano. With him was that priestly Mars, the terrible Cardinal della
Rovere (afterwards Julius II.), now bent upon the deposition of
Alexander VI. as a simoniacal usurper; and he was followed by all the
gorgeous chivalry of France, with the fierce Swiss infantry, the light
Gascon skirmishers, the gigantic Scottish bowmen--_uomini bestiali_ as
the Florentines called them--in all about 12,000 men. The procession
swept through the gaily decked streets over the Ponte Vecchio, wound
round the Piazza della Signoria, and then round the Duomo, amidst
deafening cries of _Viva Francia_ from the enthusiastic people. But
when the King descended and entered the Cathedral, there was a sad
disillusion--_parve al popolo un poco diminuta la fama_, as the good
apothecary Luca Landucci tells us--for, when off his horse, he
appeared a most insignificant little man, almost deformed, and with an
idiotic expression of countenance, as his bust portrait in the
Bargello still shows. This was not quite the sort of Cyrus that they
had expected from Savonarola's discourses; but still, within and
without Santa Maria del Fiore, the thunderous shouts of _Viva Francia_
continued, until he was solemnly escorted to the Medicean palace which
had been prepared for his reception.

That night, and each following night during the French occupation,
Florence shone so with illuminations that it seemed mid-day; every day
was full of feasting and pageantry; but French and Florentines alike
were in arms. The royal "deliverer"--egged on by the ladies of Piero's
family and especially by Alfonsina, his young wife--talked of
restoring the Medici; the Swiss, rioting in the Borgo SS. Apostoli,
were severely handled by the populace, in a way that showed the King
that the Republic was not to be trifled with. On November 24th the
treaty was signed in the Medicean (now the Riccardi) palace, after a
scene never forgotten by the Florentines. Discontented with the amount
of the indemnity, the King exclaimed in a threatening voice, "I will
bid my trumpets sound" (_io farò dare nelle trombe_). Piero Capponi
thereupon snatched the treaty from the royal secretary, tore it in
half, and exclaiming, "And we will sound our bells" (_e noi faremo
dare nelle campane_), turned with his colleagues to leave the room.
Charles, who knew Capponi of old (he had been Florentine Ambassador in
France), had the good sense to laugh it off, and the Republic was
saved. There was to be an alliance between the Republic and the King,
who was henceforth to be called "Restorer and Protector of the Liberty
of Florence." He was to receive a substantial indemnity. Pisa and the
fortresses were for the present to be retained, but ultimately
restored; the decree against the Medici was to be revoked, but they
were still banished from Tuscany. But the King would not go. The
tension every day grew greater, until at last Savonarola sought the
royal presence, solemnly warned him that God's anger would fall upon
him if he lingered, and sent him on his way. On November 28th the
French left Florence, everyone, from Charles himself downwards,
shamelessly carrying off everything of value that they could lay hands
on, including the greater part of the treasures and rarities that
Cosimo and Lorenzo had collected.

It was now that all Florence turned to the voice that rang out from
the Convent of San Marco and the pulpit of the Duomo; and Savonarola
became, in some measure, the pilot of the State. Mainly through his
influence, the government was remodelled somewhat on the basis of the
Venetian constitution with modifications. The supreme authority was
vested in the _Greater Council_, which created the magistrates and
approved the laws; and it elected the _Council of Eighty_, with which
the Signoria was bound to consult, which, together with the Signoria
and the Colleges, made appointments and discussed matters which could
not be debated in the Greater Council. A law was also passed, known as
the "law of the six beans," which gave citizens the right of appeal
from the decisions of the Signoria or the sentences of the _Otto di
guardia e balìa_ (who could condemn even to death by six votes or
"beans")--not to a special council to be chosen from the Greater
Council, as Savonarola wished, but to the Greater Council itself.
There was further a general amnesty proclaimed (March 1495). Finally,
since the time-honoured calling of parliaments had been a mere farce,
an excuse for masking revolution under the pretence of legality, and
was the only means left by which the Medici could constitutionally
have overthrown the new regime, it was ordained (August) that no
parliament should ever again be held under pain of death. "The only
purpose of parliament," said Savonarola, "is to snatch the sovereign
power from the hands of the people." So enthusiastic--to use no
harsher term--did the Friar show himself, that he declared from the
pulpit that, if ever the Signoria should sound the bell for a
parliament, their houses should be sacked, and that they themselves
might be hacked to pieces by the crowd without any sin being thereby
incurred; and that the Consiglio Maggiore was the work of God and not
of man, and that whoever should attempt to change this government
should for ever be accursed of the Lord. It was now that the Sala del
Maggior Consiglio was built by Cronaca in the Priors' Palace, to
accommodate this new government of the people; and the Signoria set up
in the middle of the court and at their gate the two bronze statues by
Donatello, which they took from Piero's palace--the _David_, an emblem
of the triumphant young republic that had overthrown the giant of
tyranny, the _Judith_ as a warning of the punishment that the State
would inflict upon whoso should attempt its restoration; _exemplum
salutis publicae cives posuere_, 1495, ran the new inscription put by
these stern theocratic republicans upon its base.

But in the meantime Charles had pursued his triumphant march, had
entered Rome, had conquered the kingdom of Naples almost without a
blow. Then fortune turned against him; Ludovico Sforza with the Pope
formed an Italian league, including Venice, with hope of Germany and
Spain, to expel the French from Italy--a league in which all but
Florence and Ferrara joined. Charles was now in full retreat to secure
his return to France, and was said to be marching on Florence with
Piero dei Medici in his company--no reformation of the Church
accomplished, no restoration of Pisa to his ally. The Florentines flew
to arms. But Savonarola imagined that he had had a special Vision of
the Lilies vouchsafed to him by the Blessed Virgin, which pointed to
an alliance with France and the reacquisition of Pisa.[21] He went
forth to meet the King at Poggibonsi, June 1495, overawed the fickle
monarch by his prophetic exhortation, and at least kept the French out
of Florence. A month later, the battle of Fornovo secured Charles'
retreat and occasioned (what was more important to posterity)
Mantegna's Madonna of the Victory. And of the lost cities and
fortresses, Leghorn alone was recovered.

  [21] When Savonarola entered upon the political arena, his spiritual
  sight was often terribly dimmed. The cause of Pisa against Florence
  was every bit as righteous as that of the Florentines themselves
  against the Medici.

But all that Savonarola had done, or was to do, in the political field
was but the means to an end--the reformation and purification of
Florence. It was to be a united and consecrated State, with Christ
alone for King, adorned with all triumphs of Christian art and sacred
poetry, a fire of spiritual felicity to Italy and all the earth. In
Lent and Advent especially, his voice sounded from the pulpit,
denouncing vice, showing the beauty of righteousness, the efficacy of
the sacraments, and interpreting the Prophets, with special reference
to the needs of his times. And for a while Florence seemed verily a
new city. For the wild licence of the Carnival, for the Pagan
pageantry that the Medicean princes had loved, for the sensual songs
that had once floated up from every street of the City of
Flowers--there were now bonfires of the vanities in the public
squares; holocausts of immoral books, indecent pictures, all that
ministered to luxury and wantonness (and much, too, that was very
precious!); there were processions in honour of Christ and His Mother,
there were new mystical lauds and hymns of divine love. A kind of
spiritual inebriation took possession of the people and their rulers
alike. Tonsured friars and grave citizens, with heads garlanded,
mingled with the children and danced like David before the Ark,
shouting, "_Viva Cristo e la Vergine Maria nostra regina._" They had
indeed, like the Apostle, become fools for Christ's sake. "It was a
holy time," writes good Luca Landucci, "but it was short. The wicked
have prevailed over the good. Praised be God that I saw that short
holy time. Wherefore I pray God that He may give it back to us, that
holy and pure living. It was indeed a blessed time." Above all, the
children of Florence were the Friar's chosen emissaries and agents in
the great work he had in hand; he organised them into bands, with
standard-bearers and officers like the time-honoured city companies
with their gonfaloniers, and sent them round the city to seize
vanities, forcibly to stop gambling, to collect alms for the poor, and
even to exercise a supervision over the ladies' dresses. _Ecco i
fanciugli del Frate_, was an instant signal for gamblers to take to
flight, and for the fair and frail ladies to be on their very best
behaviour. They proceeded with olive branches, like the children of
Jerusalem on the first Palm Sunday; they made the churches ring with
their hymns to the Madonna, and even harangued the Signoria on the
best method of reforming the morals of the citizens. "Out of the
mouths of babes and sucklings Thou hast perfected praise," quotes
Landucci: "I have written these things because they are true, and I
have seen them and have felt their sweetness, and some of my own
children were among these pure and blessed bands."[22]

  [22] This Luca Landucci, whose diary we shall have occasion to quote
  more than once, kept an apothecary's shop near the Strozzi Palace at
  the Canto de' Tornaquinci. He was an ardent Piagnone, though he
  wavered at times. He died in 1516, and was buried in Santa Maria
  Novella.

But the holy time was short indeed. Factions were still only too much
alive. The _Bigi_ or _Palleschi_ were secretly ready to welcome the
Medici back; the _Arrabbiati_, the powerful section of the citizens
who, to some extent, held the traditions of the so-called _Ottimati_
or _nobili popolani_, whom the Medici had overthrown, were even more
bitter in their hatred to the _Frateschi_ or _Piagnoni_, as the
adherents of the Friar were called, though prepared to make common
cause with them on the least rumour of Piero dei Medici approaching
the walls. The _Compagnacci_, or "bad companions," dissolute young men
and evil livers, were banded together under Doffo Spini, and would
gladly have taken the life of the man who had curtailed their
opportunities for vice. And to these there were now added the open
hostility of Pope Alexander VI., and the secret machinations of his
worthy ally, the Duke of Milan. The Pope's hostility was at first
mainly political; he had no objection whatever to Savonarola reforming
faith and morals (so long as he did not ask Roderigo Borgia to reform
himself), but could not abide the Friar declaring that he had a
special mission from God and the Madonna to oppose the Italian league
against France. At the same time the Pope would undoubtedly have been
glad to see Piero dei Medici restored to power. But in the early part
of 1496, it became a war to the death between these two--the Prophet
of Righteousness and the Church's Caiaphas--a war which seemed at one
moment about to convulse all Christendom, but which ended in the
funeral pyre of the Piazza della Signoria.

On Ash Wednesday, February 17th, Fra Girolamo, amidst the vastest
audience that had yet flocked to hear his words, ascended once more
the pulpit of Santa Maria del Fiore. He commenced by a profession of
most absolute submission to the Church of Rome. "I have ever believed,
and do believe," he said, "all that is believed by the Holy Roman
Church, and have ever submitted, and do submit, myself to her.... I
rely only on Christ and on the decisions of the Church of Rome." But
this was a prelude to the famous series of sermons on Amos and
Zechariah which he preached throughout this Lent, and which was in
effect a superb and inspired denunciation of the wickedness of
Alexander and his Court, of the shameless corruption of the Papal
Curia and the Church generally, which had made Rome, for a while, the
sink of Christendom. Nearly two hundred years before, St Peter had
said the same thing to Dante in the Heaven of the Fixed Stars:--

     "Quegli ch'usurpa in terra il loco mio,
       il loco mio, il loco mio, che vaca
       nella presenza del Figliuol di Dio,
     fatto ha del cimitero mio cloaca
       del sangue e della puzza, onde il perverso
       che cadde di quassù, laggiù si placa."[23]

  [23] "He who usurpeth upon earth my place, my place, my place, which
  in the presence of the Son of God is vacant,

  "hath made my burial-ground a conduit for that blood and filth,
  whereby the apostate one who fell from here above, is soothed down
  there below."--_Paradiso_ xxvii.
      Wicksteed's Translation.

These were, perhaps, the most terrible of all Savonarola's sermons and
prophecies. Chastisement was to come upon Rome; she was to be girdled
with steel, put to the sword, consumed with fire. Italy was to be
ravaged with pestilence and famine; from all sides the barbarian
hordes would sweep down upon her. Let them fly from this corrupted
Rome, this new Babylon of confusion, and come to repentance. And for
himself, he asked and hoped for nothing but the lot of the martyrs,
when his work was done. These sermons echoed through all Europe; and
when the Friar, after a temporary absence at Prato, returned to the
pulpit in May with a new course of sermons on Ruth and Micah, he was
no less daring; as loudly as ever he rebuked the hideous corruption of
the times, the wickedness of the Roman Court, and announced the
scourge that was at hand:--

"I announce to thee, Italy and Rome, that the Lord will come forth out
of His place. He has awaited thee so long that He can wait no more. I
tell thee that God will draw forth the sword from the sheath; He will
send the foreign nations; He will come forth out of His clemency and
His mercy; and such bloodshed shall there be, so many deaths, such
cruelty, that thou shalt say: O Lord, Thou hast come forth out of Thy
place. Yea, the Lord shall come; He will come down and tread upon the
high places of the earth. I say to thee, Italy and Rome, that the Lord
will tread upon thee. I have bidden thee do penance; thou art worse
than ever. The feet of the Lord shall tread upon thee; His feet shall
be the horses, the armies of the foreign nations that shall trample
upon the great men of Italy; and soon shall priests, friars, bishops,
cardinals and great masters be trampled down....

"Trust not, Rome, in saying: Here we have the relics, here we have St
Peter and so many bodies of martyrs. God will not suffer such
iniquities! I warn thee that their blood cries up to Christ to come
and chastise thee."[24]

  [24] Sermon on May 29th, 1496. In Villari and Casanova, _Scelte di
  prediche e scritti di Fra Girolamo Savonarola_.

But, in the meanwhile, the state of Florence was dark and dismal in
the extreme. Pestilence and famine ravaged her streets; the war
against Pisa seemed more hopeless every day; Piero Capponi had fallen
in the field in September; and the forces of the League threatened her
with destruction, unless she deserted the French alliance. King
Charles showed no disposition to return; the Emperor Maximilian, with
the Venetian fleet, was blockading her sole remaining port of Leghorn.
A gleam of light came in October, when, at the very moment that the
miraculous Madonna of the Impruneta was being borne through the
streets in procession by the Piagnoni, a messenger brought the news
that reinforcements and provisions had reached Leghorn from
Marseilles; and it was followed in November by the dispersion of the
imperial fleet by a tempest. At the opening of 1497 a Signory devoted
to Savonarola, and headed by Francesco Valori as Gonfaloniere, was
elected; and the following carnival witnessed an even more emphatic
burning of the vanities in the great Piazza, while the sweet voices of
the "children of the Friar" seemed to rise louder and louder in
intercession and in praise. Savonarola was at this time living more
in seclusion, broken in health, and entirely engaged upon his great
theological treatise, the _Triumphus Crucis_; but in Lent he resumed
his pulpit crusade against the corruption of the Church, the
scandalous lives of her chief pastors, in a series of sermons on
Ezekiel; above all in one most tremendous discourse on the text: "And
in all thy abominations and thy fornications thou hast not remembered
the days of thy youth." In April, relying upon the election of a new
Signoria favourable to the Mediceans (and headed by Bernardo del Nero
as Gonfaloniere), Piero dei Medici--who had been leading a most
degraded life in Rome, and committing every turpitude imaginable--made
an attempt to surprise Florence, which merely resulted in a
contemptible fiasco. This threw the government into the hands of the
Arrabbiati, who hated Savonarola even more than the Palleschi did, and
who were intriguing with the Pope and the Duke of Milan. On Ascension
Day the Compagnacci raised a disgraceful riot in the Duomo,
interrupted Savonarola's sermon, and even attempted to take his life.
Then at last there came from Rome the long-expected bull of
excommunication, commencing, "We have heard from many persons worthy
of belief that a certain Fra Girolamo Savonarola, at this present said
to be vicar of San Marco in Florence, hath disseminated pernicious
doctrines to the scandal and great grief of simple souls." It was
published on June 18th in the Badia, the Annunziata, Santa Croce,
Santa Maria Novella, and Santo Spirito, with the usual solemn
ceremonies of ringing bells and dashing out of the lights--in the
last-named church, especially, the monks "did the cursing in the most
orgulist wise that might be done," as the compiler of the _Morte
Darthur_ would put it.

The Arrabbiati and Compagnacci were exultant, but the Signoria that
entered office in July seemed disposed to make Savonarola's cause
their own. A fresh plot was discovered to betray Florence to Piero dei
Medici, and five of the noblest citizens in the State--the aged
Bernardo del Nero, who had merely known of the plot and not divulged
it, but who had been privy to Piero's coming in April while
Gonfaloniere, among them--were beheaded in the courtyard of the
Bargello's palace, adjoining the Palazzo Vecchio. In this Savonarola
took no share; he was absorbed in tending those who were dying on all
sides from the plague and famine, and in making the final revision of
his _Triumph of the Cross_, which was to show to the Pope and all the
world how steadfastly he held to the faith of the Church of Rome.[25]
The execution of these conspirators caused great indignation among
many in the city. They had been refused the right of appeal to the
Consiglio Maggiore, and it was held that Fra Girolamo might have saved
them, had he so chosen, and that his ally, Francesco Valori, who had
relentlessly hounded them to their deaths, had been actuated mainly by
personal hatred of Bernardo del Nero.

  [25] Professor Villari justly remarks that "Savonarola's attacks were
  never directed in the slightest degree against the dogmas of the Roman
  Church, but solely against those who corrupted them." The _Triumph of
  the Cross_ was intended to do for the Renaissance what St Thomas
  Aquinas had accomplished for the Middle Ages in his _Summa contra
  Gentiles_. As this book is the fullest expression of Savonarola's
  creed, it is much to be regretted that more than one of its English
  translators have omitted some of its most characteristic and important
  passages bearing upon Catholic practice and doctrine, without the
  slightest indication that any such process of "expurgation" has been
  carried out.

But Savonarola could not long keep silence, and in the following
February, 1498, on Septuagesima Sunday, he again ascended the pulpit
of the Duomo. Many of his adherents, Landucci tells us, kept away for
fear of the excommunication: "I was one of those who did not go
there." Not faith, but charity it is that justifies and perfects
man--such was the burden of the Friar's sermons now: if the Pope gives
commands which are contrary to charity, he is no instrument of the
Lord, but a broken tool. The excommunication is invalid, the Lord will
work a miracle through His servant when His time comes, and his only
prayer is that he may die in defence of the truth. On the last day of
the Carnival, after communicating his friars and a vast throng of the
laity, Savonarola addressed the people in the Piazza of San Marco,
and, holding on high the Host, prayed that Christ would send fire from
heaven upon him that should swallow him up into hell, if he were
deceiving himself, and if his words were not from God. There was a
more gorgeous burning of the Vanities than ever; but all during Lent
the unequal conflict went on, and the Friar began to talk of a future
Council. This was the last straw. An interdict would ruin the commerce
of Florence; and on the 17th of March the Signoria bowed before the
storm, and forbade Savonarola to preach again. On the following
morning, the third Sunday in Lent, he delivered his last sermon:--

"If I am deceived, Christ, Thou hast deceived me, Thou. Holy Trinity,
if I am deceived, Thou hast deceived me. Angels, if I am deceived, ye
have deceived me. Saints of Paradise, if I am deceived, ye have
deceived me. But all that God has said, or His angels or His saints
have said, is most true, and it is impossible that they should lie;
and, therefore, it is impossible that, when I repeat what they have
told me, I should lie. O Rome, do all that thou wilt, for I assure
thee of this, that the Lord is with me. O Rome, it is hard for thee to
kick against the pricks. Thou shalt be purified yet.... Italy, Italy,
the Lord is with me. Thou wilt not be able to do aught. Florence,
Florence, that is, ye evil citizens of Florence, arm yourselves as ye
will, ye shall be conquered this time, and ye shall not be able to
kick against the pricks, for the Lord is with me, as a strong
warrior." "Let us leave all to the Lord; He has been the Master of all
the Prophets, and of all the holy men. He is the Master who wieldeth
the hammer, and, when He hath used it for His purpose, putteth it not
back into the chest, but casteth it aside. So did He unto Jeremiah,
for when He had used him as much as He wished, He cast him aside and
had him stoned. So will it be also with this hammer; when He shall
have used it in His own way, He will cast it aside. Yea, we are
content, let the Lord's will be done; and by the more suffering that
shall be ours here below, so much the greater shall the crown be
hereafter, there on high."

"We will do with our prayers what we had to do with our preaching. O
Lord, I commend to Thee the good and the pure of heart; and I pray
Thee, look not at the negligence of the good, because human frailty is
great, yea, their frailty is great. Bless, Lord, the good and pure of
heart. Lord, I pray Thee that Thou delay no longer in fulfilling Thy
promises."

It was now, in the silence of his cell, that Savonarola prepared his
last move. He would appeal to the princes of Christendom--the Emperor,
Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, Henry VII. of England, the King of
Hungary, and above all, that "most Christian King" Charles VIII. of
France--to summon a general council, depose the simoniacal usurper who
was polluting the chair of Peter, and reform the Church. He was
prepared to promise miracles from God to confirm his words. These
letters were written, but never sent; a preliminary message was
forwarded from trustworthy friends in Florence to influential persons
in each court to prepare them for what was coming; and the despatch
to the Florentine ambassador in France was intercepted by the agents
of the Duke of Milan. It was at once placed in the hands of Cardinal
Ascanio Sforza in Rome, and the end was now a matter of days. The
Signoria was hostile, and the famous ordeal by fire lit the
conflagration that freed the martyr and patriot. On Sunday, March
25th, the Franciscan Francesco da Puglia, preaching in Santa Croce and
denouncing Savonarola, challenged him to prove his doctrines by a
miracle, to pass unscathed through the fire. He was himself prepared
to enter the flames with him, or at least said that he was. Against
Savonarola's will his lieutenant, Fra Domenico, who had taken his
place in the pulpit, drew up a series of conclusions (epitomising
Savonarola's teaching and declaring the nullity of the excommunication),
and declared himself ready to enter the fire to prove their truth.

Huge was the delight of the Compagnacci at the prospect of such sport,
and the Signoria seized upon it as a chance of ending the matter once
for all. Whether the Franciscans were sincere, or whether it was a
mere plot to enable the Arrabbiati and Compagnacci to destroy
Savonarola, is still a matter of dispute. The Piagnoni were confident
in the coming triumph of their prophet; champions came forward from
both sides, professedly eager to enter the flames--although it was
muttered that the Compagnacci and their Doffo Spini had promised the
Franciscans that no harm should befall them. Savonarola misliked it,
but took every precaution that, if the ordeal really came off, there
should be no possibility of fraud or evasion. Of the amazing scene in
the Piazza on April 7th, I will speak in the following chapter;
suffice it to say here that it ended in a complete fiasco, and that
Savonarola and his friars would never have reached their convent
alive, but for the protection of the armed soldiery of the Signoria.
Hounded home under the showers of stones and filth from the infuriated
crowd, whose howls of execration echoed through San Marco, Fra
Girolamo had the _Te Deum_ sung, but knew in his heart that all was
lost. That very same day his Cyrus, the champion of his prophetic
dreams, Charles VIII. of France, was struck down by an apoplectic
stroke at Amboise; and, as though in judgment for his abandonment of
what the prophet had told him was the work of the Lord, breathed his
last in the utmost misery and ignominy.

The next morning, Palm Sunday, April 8th, Savonarola preached a very
short sermon in the church of San Marco, in which he offered himself
in sacrifice to God and was prepared to suffer death for his flock.
_Tanto fu sempre questo uomo simile a sè stesso_, says Jacopo Nardi.
Hell had broken loose by the evening, and the Arrabbiati and
Compagnacci, stabbing and hewing as they came, surged round the church
and convent. In spite of Savonarola and Fra Domenico, the friars had
weapons and ammunition in their cells, and there was a small band of
devout laymen with them, prepared to hold by the prophet to the end.
From vespers till past midnight the attack and defence went on; in the
Piazza, in the church, and through the cloisters raged the fight,
while riot and murder wantoned through the streets of the city.
Francesco Valori, who had escaped from the convent in the hope of
bringing reinforcements, was brutally murdered before his own door.
The great bell of the convent tolled and tolled, animating both
besieged and besiegers to fresh efforts, but bringing no relief from
without. Savonarola, who had been prevented from following the
impulses of his heart and delivering himself up to the infernal crew
that thirsted for his blood in the Piazza, at last gathered his
friars round him before the Blessed Sacrament, in the great hall of
the Greek library, solemnly confirmed his doctrine, exhorted them to
embrace the Cross alone, and then, together with Fra Domenico, gave
himself into the hands of the forces of the Signoria. The entire
cloisters were already swarming with his exultant foes. "The work of
the Lord shall go forward without cease," he said, as the mace-bearers
bound him and Domenico, "my death will but hasten it on." Buffeted and
insulted by the Compagnacci and the populace, amidst the deafening
uproar, the two Dominicans were brought to the Palazzo Vecchio. It
seemed to the excited imaginations of the Piagnoni that the scenes of
the first Passiontide at Jerusalem were now being repeated in the
streets of fifteenth century Florence.

The Signoria had no intention of handing over their captives to Rome,
but appointed a commission of seventeen--including Doffo Spini and
several of Savonarola's bitterest foes--to conduct the examination of
the three friars. The third, Fra Silvestro, a weak and foolish
visionary, had hid himself on the fatal night, but had been given up
on the following day. Again and again were they most cruelly
tortured--but in all essentials, though ever and anon they wrung some
sort of agonised denial from his lips, Savonarola's testimony as to
his divine mission was unshaken. Fra Domenico, the lion-hearted soul
whom the children of Florence had loved, and to whom poets like
Poliziano had turned on their death-beds, was as heroic on the rack or
under the torment of the boot as he had been throughout his career.
Out of Fra Silvestro the examiners could naturally extort almost
anything they pleased. And a number of laymen and others, supposed to
have been in their counsels, were similarly "examined," and their
shrieks rang through the Bargello; but with little profit to the
Friar's foes. So they falsified the confessions, and read the
falsification aloud in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, to the
bewilderment of all Savonarola's quondam disciples who were there. "We
had believed him to be a prophet," writes Landucci in his diary, "and
he confessed that he was not a prophet, and that he had not received
from God the things that he preached; and he confessed that many
things in his sermons were the contrary to what he had given us to
understand. And I was there when this process was read, whereat I was
astounded, stupified, and amazed. Grief pierced my soul, when I saw so
great an edifice fall to the ground, through being sadly based upon a
single lie. I expected Florence to be a new Jerusalem, whence should
proceed the laws and splendour and example of goodly living, and to
see the renovation of the Church, the conversion of the infidels and
the consolation of the good. And I heard the very contrary, and indeed
took the medicine: _In voluntate tua, Domine, omnia sunt posita._"

A packed election produced a new Signoria, crueller than the last.
They still refused to send the friars to Rome, but invited the Pope's
commissioners to Florence. These arrived on May 19th--the Dominican
General, Torriani, a well-intentioned man, and the future Cardinal
Romolino, a typical creature of the Borgias and a most infamous
fellow. It was said that they meant to put Savonarola to death, even
if he were a second St John the Baptist. The torture was renewed
without result; the three friars were sentenced to be hanged and then
burnt. Fra Domenico implored that he might be cast alive into the
fire, in order that he might suffer more grievous torments for Christ,
and desired only that the friars of Fiesole, of which convent he was
prior, might bury him in some lowly spot, and be loyal to the
teachings of Fra Girolamo. On the morning of May 23rd, Savonarola said
his last Mass in the Chapel of the Priors, and communicated his
companions. Then they were led out on to the Ringhiera overlooking the
Piazza, from which a temporary _palchetto_ ran out towards the centre
of the square to serve as scaffold. Here, the evening before, the
gallows had been erected, beam across beam; but a cry had arisen among
the crowd, _They are going to crucify him._ So it had been hacked
about, in order that it might not seem even remotely to resemble a
cross. But in spite of all their efforts, Jacopo Nardi tells us, that
gallows still seemed to represent the figure of the Cross.

  [Illustration: THE DEATH OF SAVONAROLA
  (From an old, but quite contemporary, representation)]

The guards of the Signoria kept back the crowds that pressed thicker
and thicker round the scaffold, most of them bitterly hostile to the
Friars and heaping every insult upon them. When Savonarola was
stripped of the habit of Saint Dominic, he said, "Holy dress, how much
did I long to wear thee; thou wast granted to me by the grace of God,
and to this day I have kept thee spotless. I do not now leave thee,
thou art taken from me." They were now degraded by the Bishop of
Vasona, who had loved Fra Girolamo in better days; then in the same
breath sentenced and absolved by Romolino, and finally condemned by
the Eight--or the seven of them who were present--as representing the
secular arm. The Bishop, in degrading Savonarola, stammered out:
_Separo te ab Ecclesia militante atque triumphante_; to which the
Friar calmly answered, in words which have become famous: _Militante,
non triumphante; hoc enim tuum non est._ Silvestro suffered first,
then Domenico. There was a pause before Savonarola followed; and in
the sudden silence, as he looked his last upon the people, a voice
cried: "Now, prophet, is the time for a miracle." And then another
voice: "Now can I burn the man who would have burnt me"; and a
ruffian, who had been waiting since dawn at the foot of the scaffold,
fired the pile before the executioner could descend from his ladder.
The bodies were burnt to ashes amidst the ferocious yells of the
populace, and thrown into the Arno from the Ponte Vecchio. "Many fell
from their faith," writes Landucci. A faithful few, including some
noble Florentine ladies, gathered up relics, in spite of the crowd and
the Signory, and collected what floated on the water. It was the vigil
of Ascension Day.

       *       *       *       *       *

Savonarola's martyrdom ends the story of mediæval Florence. The last
man of the Middle Ages--born out of his due time--had perished. A
portion of the prophecy was fulfilled at once. The people of Italy and
their rulers alike were trampled into the dust beneath the feet of the
foreigners--the Frenchmen, the Switzers, the Spaniards, the Germans.
The new King of France, Louis XII., who claimed both the Duchy of
Milan and the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, entered Milan in 1499; and,
after a brief restoration, Ludovico Sforza expiated his treasons by
being sold by the Swiss to a lingering life-in-death in a French
dungeon. The Spaniards followed; and in 1501 the troops of Ferdinand
the Catholic occupied Naples. Like the dragon and the lion in
Leonardo's drawing, Spain and France now fell upon each other for the
possession of the spoils of conquered Italy; the Emperor Maximilian
and Pope Julius II. joined in the fray; fresh hordes of Swiss poured
into Lombardy. The battle of Pavia in 1525 gave the final victory to
Spain; and, in 1527, the judgment foretold by Savonarola fell upon
Rome, when the Eternal City was devastated by the Spaniards and
Germans, nominally the armies of the Emperor Charles V. The treaty of
Câteau-Cambresis in 1559 finally forged the Austrian and Spanish
fetters with which Italy was henceforth bound.

The death of Savonarola did not materially alter the affairs of the
Republic. The Greater Council kept its hold upon the people and city,
and in 1502 Piero di Tommaso Soderini was elected Gonfaloniere for
life. The new head of the State was a sincere Republican and a genuine
whole-hearted patriot; a man of blameless life and noble character,
but simple-minded almost to a fault, and of abilities hardly more than
mediocre. Niccolò Machiavelli, who was born in 1469 and had entered
political life in 1498, shortly after Savonarola's death, as Secretary
to the Ten (the Dieci di Balìa), was much employed by the Gonfaloniere
both in war and peace, especially on foreign legations; and, although
he sneered at Soderini after his death for his simplicity, he
co-operated faithfully and ably with him during his administration. It
was under Soderini that Machiavelli organised the Florentine militia.
Pisa was finally reconquered for Florence in 1509; and, although
Machiavelli cruelly told the Pisan envoys that the Florentines
required only their obedience, and cared nothing for their lives,
their property, nor their honour, the conquerors showed unusual
magnanimity and generosity in their triumph.

These last years of the Republic are very glorious in the history of
Florentine art. In 1498, just before the French entered Milan,
Leonardo da Vinci had finished his Last Supper for Ludovico Sforza; in
the same year, Michelangelo commenced his Pietà in Rome which is now
in St Peter's; in 1499, Baccio della Porta began a fresco of the Last
Judgment in Santa Maria Nuova, a fresco which, when he entered the
Dominican order at San Marco and became henceforth known as Fra
Bartolommeo, was finished by his friend, Mariotto Albertinelli. These
three works, though in very different degrees, represent the opening
of the Cinquecento in painting and sculpture. While Soderini ruled,
both Leonardo and Michelangelo were working in Florence, for the Sala
del Maggior Consiglio, and Michelangelo's gigantic David--the Republic
preparing to meet its foes--was finished in 1504. This was the epoch
in which Leonardo was studying those strange women of the Renaissance,
whose mysterious smiles and wonderful hair still live for us in his
drawings; and it was now that he painted here in Florence his Monna
Lisa, "the embodiment of the old fancy, the symbol of the modern
idea." At the close of 1504 the young Raphael came to Florence (as
Perugino had done before him), and his art henceforth shows how
profoundly he felt the Florentine influence. We know how he sketched
the newly finished David, studied Masaccio's frescoes, copied bits of
Leonardo's cartoon, was impressed by Bartolommeo's Last Judgment.
Although it was especially Leonardo that he took for a model, Raphael
found his most congenial friend and adviser in the artist friar of San
Marco; and there is a pleasant tradition that he was himself
influential in persuading Fra Bartolommeo to resume the brush.
Leonardo soon went off to serve King Francis I. in France; Pope Julius
summoned both Michelangelo and Raphael to Rome. These men were the
masters of the world in painting and sculpture, and cannot really be
confined to one school. Purely Florentine painting in the Cinquecento
now culminated in the work of Fra Bartolommeo (1475-1517) and Andrea
del Sarto (1486-1531), who had both been the pupils of Piero di
Cosimo, although they felt other and greater influences later. After
Angelico, Fra Bartolommeo is the most purely religious of all the
Florentine masters; and, with the solitary exception of Andrea del
Sarto, he is their only really great colourist. Two pictures of his at
Lucca--one in the Cathedral, the other now in the Palazzo
Pubblico--are among the greatest works of the Renaissance. In the
latter especially, "Our Lady of Mercy," he shows himself the heir in
painting of the traditions of Savonarola. Many of Bartolommeo's
altar-pieces have grown very black, and have lost much of their effect
by being removed from the churches for which they were painted; but
enough is left in Florence to show his greatness. With him was
associated that gay Bohemian and wild liver, Mariotto Albertinelli
(1474-1515), who deserted painting to become an innkeeper, and who
frequently worked in partnership with the friar. Andrea del Sarto, the
tailor's son who loved not wisely but too well, is the last of a noble
line of heroic craftsmen. Although his work lacks all inspiration, he
is one of the greatest of colourists. "Andrea del Sarto," writes Mr
Berenson, "approached, perhaps, as closely to a Giorgione or a Titian
as could a Florentine, ill at ease in the neighbourhood of Leonardo
and Michelangelo." He entirely belongs to these closing days of the
Republic; his earliest frescoes were painted during Soderini's
gonfalonierate; his latest just before the great siege.

In the Carnival of 1511 a wonderfully grim pageant was shown to the
Florentines, and it was ominous of coming events. It was known as the
_Carro della Morte_, and had been designed with much secrecy by Piero
di Cosimo. Drawn by buffaloes, a gigantic black chariot, all painted
over with dead men's bones and white crosses, slowly passed through
the streets. Upon the top of it, there stood a large figure of Death
with a scythe in her hand; all round her, on the chariot, were closed
coffins. When at intervals the Triumph paused, harsh and hoarse
trumpet-blasts sounded; the coffins opened, and horrible figures,
attired like skeletons, half issued forth. "We are dead," they sang,
"as you see. So shall we see you dead. Once we were even as you are,
soon shall you be as we." Before and after the chariot, rode a great
band of what seemed to be mounted deaths, on the sorriest steeds that
could be found. Each bore a great black banner with skull and
cross-bones upon it, and each ghastly cavalier was attended by four
skeletons with black torches. Ten black standards followed the
Triumph; and, as it slowly moved on, the whole procession chanted the
_Miserere_. Vasari tells us that this spectacle, which filled the city
with terror and wonder, was supposed to signify the return of the
Medici to Florence, which was to be "as it were, a resurrection from
death to life."

And, sure enough, in the following year the Spaniards under Raimondo
da Cardona fell upon Tuscany, and, after the horrible sack and
massacre of Prato, reinstated the Cardinal Giovanni dei Medici and
Giuliano in Florence--their elder brother, Piero, had been drowned in
the Garigliano eight years before. Piero Soderini went into exile, the
Greater Council was abolished, and, while the city was held by their
foreign troops, the Medici renewed the old pretence of summoning a
parliament to grant a balìa to reform the State. At the beginning of
1513 two young disciples of Savonarola, Pietro Paolo Boscoli and
Agostino Capponi, resolved to imitate Brutus and Cassius, and to
liberate Florence by the death of the Cardinal and his brother. Their
plot was discovered, and they died on the scaffold. "Get this Brutus
out of my head for me," said Boscoli to Luca della Robbia, kinsman of
the great sculptor, "that I may meet my last end like a Christian";
and, to the Dominican friar who confessed him, he said, "Father, the
philosophers have taught me how to bear death manfully; do you help
me to bear it out of love for Christ." In this same year the Cardinal
Giovanni was elected Pope, and entered upon his splendid and
scandalous pontificate as Leo X. "Let us enjoy the Papacy," was his
maxim, "since God has given it to us."

Although Machiavelli was ready to serve the Medici, he had been
deprived of his posts at the restoration, imprisoned and tortured on
suspicion of being concerned in Boscoli's conspiracy, and now,
released in the amnesty granted by the newly elected Pope, was living
in poverty and enforced retirement at his villa near San Casciano. It
was now that he wrote his great books, the _Principe_ and the
_Discorsi sopra la prima deca di Tito Livio_. Florence was ruled by
the Pope's nephew, the younger Lorenzo, son of Piero by Alfonsina
Orsini. The government was practically what it had been under the
Magnificent, save that this new Lorenzo, who had married a French
princess, discarded the republican appearances which his grandfather
had maintained, and surrounded himself with courtiers and soldiers.
For him and for Giuliano, the Pope cherished designs of carving out
large princedoms in Italy; and Machiavelli, in dedicating his
_Principe_ first to Giuliano, who died in 1516, and then to Lorenzo,
probably dreamed that some such prince as he described might drive out
the foreigner and unify the nation. In his nobler moments Leo X., too,
seems to have aspired to establish the independence of Italy. When
Lorenzo died in 1519, leaving one daughter, who was afterwards to be
the notorious Queen of France, there was no direct legitimate male
descendant of Cosimo the elder left; and the Cardinal Giulio, son of
the elder Giuliano, governed Florence with considerable mildness, and
even seemed disposed to favour a genuine republican government, until
a plot against his life hardened his heart. It was to him that
Machiavelli, who was now to some extent received back into favour,
afterwards dedicated his _Istorie Fiorentine_. In 1523 the Cardinal
Giulio, in spite of his illegitimate birth, became Pope Clement VII.,
that most hapless of Pontiffs, whose reign was so surpassingly
disastrous to Italy. In Florence the Medici were now represented by
two young bastards, Ippolito and Alessandro, the reputed children of
the younger Giuliano and the younger Lorenzo respectively; while the
Cardinal Passerini misruled the State in the name of the Pope. But
more of the true Medicean spirit had passed into the person of a
woman, Clarice, the daughter of Piero (and therefore the sister of the
Duke Lorenzo), who was married to the younger Filippo Strozzi, and
could ill bear to see her house end in these two base-born lads. And
elsewhere in Italy Giovanni delle Bande Nere (as he was afterwards
called, from the mourning of his soldiers for his death) was winning
renown as a captain; he was the son of that Giovanni dei Medici with
whom Piero had quarrelled, by Caterina Sforza, the Lady of Forlì, and
had married Maria Salviati, a grand-daughter of Lorenzo the
Magnificent. But the Pope would rather have lost Florence than that it
should fall into the hands of the younger line.

But the Florentine Republic was to have a more glorious sunset. In
1527, while the imperial troops sacked Rome, the Florentines for the
third time expelled the Medici and re-established the Republic, with
first Niccolò Capponi and then Francesco Carducci as Gonfaloniere. In
this sunset Machiavelli died; Andrea del Sarto painted the last great
Florentine fresco; Michelangelo returned to serve the State in her
hour of need. The voices of the Piagnoni were heard again from San
Marco, and Niccolò Capponi in the Greater Council carried a
resolution electing Jesus Christ king of Florence. But the plague fell
upon the city; and her liberty was the price of the reconciliation of
Pope and Emperor. From October 1529 until August 1530, their united
forces--first under the Prince of Orange and then under Ferrante
Gonzaga--beleaguered Florence. Francesco Ferrucci, the last hope of
the Republic, was defeated and slain by the imperialists near San
Marcello; and then, betrayed by her own infamous general Malatesta
Baglioni, the city capitulated on the understanding that, although the
form of the government was to be regulated and established by the
Emperor, her liberty was preserved. The sun had indeed set of the most
noble Republic in all history.

Alessandro dei Medici, the reputed son of Lorenzo by a mulatto woman,
was now made hereditary ruler of Florence by the Emperor, whose
illegitimate daughter he married, and by the Pope. For a time, the
Duke behaved with some decency; but after the death of Clement in
1534, he showed himself in his true light as a most abominable tyrant,
and would even have murdered Michelangelo, who had been working upon
the tombs of Giuliano and Lorenzo. "It was certainly by God's aid,"
writes Condivi, "that he happened to be away from Florence when
Clement died." Alessandro appears to have poisoned his kinsman, the
Cardinal Ippolito, the other illegitimate remnant of the elder
Medicean line, in whom he dreaded a possible rival. Associated with
him in his worst excesses was a legitimate scion of the younger branch
of the house, Lorenzino--the _Lorenzaccio_ of Alfred de Musset's
drama--who was the grandson of the Lorenzo di Pier Francesco mentioned
in the previous chapter.[26] On January 5th, 1537, this young man--a
reckless libertine, half scholar and half madman--stabbed the Duke
Alessandro to death with the aid of a bravo, and fled, only to find a
dishonourable grave some ten years later in Venice.

  [26] See the Genealogical Table of the Medici.

  [Illustration: THE DAWN
  BY MICHELANGELO]

Florence now fell into the hands of the ablest and most ruthless of
all her rulers, Cosimo I. (the son of Giovanni delle Bande Nere), who
united Medicean craft with the brutality of the Sforzas, conquered
Siena, and became the first Grand Duke of Tuscany. At the opening of
his reign the Florentine exiles, headed by the Strozzi and by Baccio
Valori, attempted to recover the State, but were defeated by Cosimo's
mercenaries. Their leaders were relentlessly put to death; and Filippo
Strozzi, after prolonged torture, was either murdered in prison or
committed suicide. A word will be said presently, in chapter ix., on
Cosimo's descendants, the Medicean Grand Dukes who reigned in Tuscany
for two hundred years.

The older generation of artists had passed away with the Republic.
After the siege Michelangelo alone remained, compelled to labour upon
the Medicean tombs in San Lorenzo, which have become a monument, less
to the tyrants for whom he reared them, than to the _saeva indignatio_
of the great master himself at the downfall of his country. A madrigal
of his, written either in the days of Alessandro or at the beginning
of Cosimo's reign, expresses what was in his heart. Symonds renders
it:--

     "Lady, for joy of lovers numberless
     Thou wast created fair as angels are;
     Sure God hath fallen asleep in heaven afar,
     When one man calls the bliss of many his."

But the last days and last works of Michelangelo belong to the story
of Rome rather than to that of Florence. Jacopo Carucci da Pontormo
(1494-1557), who had been Andrea del Sarto's scholar, and whose
earlier works had been painted before the downfall of the Republic,
connects the earlier with the later Cinquecento; but of his work, as
of that of his pupil Angelo Bronzino (1502-1572), the portraits alone
have any significance for us now. Giorgio Vasari (1512-1574), although
painter and architect--the Uffizi and part of the Palazzo Vecchio are
his work--is chiefly famous for his delightful series of biographies of
the artists themselves. Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1571), that most piquant
of personalities, and the Fleming Giambologna or Giovanni da Bologna
(1524-1608), the master of the flying Mercury, are the last noteworthy
sculptors of the Florentine school. When Michelangelo--_Michel,
più che mortale, Angel divino_, as Ariosto calls him--passed away on
February 18th, 1564, the Renaissance was over as far as Art was
concerned. And not in Art only. The dome of St Peter's, that was
slowly rising before Michelangelo's dying eyes, was a visible sign of
the new spirit that was moving within the Church itself, the spirit
that reformed the Church and purified the Papacy, and which brought
about the renovation of which Savonarola had prophesied.




CHAPTER V

_The Palazzo Vecchio--The Piazza della Signoria--The Uffizi_

     "Ecco il Palagio de' Signori si bello
     che chi cercasse tutto l'universo,
     non credo ch'é trovasse par di quello."
         --_Antonio Pucci._

  [Illustration: THE PALAZZO VECCHIO]


At the eastern corner of the Piazza della Signoria--that great square
over which almost all the history of Florence may be said to have
passed--rises the Palazzo Vecchio, with its great projecting parapets
and its soaring tower: the old Palace of the Signoria, originally the
Palace of the Priors, and therefore of the People. It is often stated
that the square battlements of the Palace itself represent the Guelfs,
while the forked battlements of the tower are in some mysterious way
connected with the Ghibellines, who can hardly be said to have still
existed as a real party in the city when they were built; there is, it
appears, absolutely no historical foundation for this legend. The
Palace was commenced by Arnolfo di Cambio in 1298, when, in
consequence of the hostility between the magnates and the people, it
was thought that the Priors were not sufficiently secure in the Palace
of the Cerchi; and it may be taken to represent the whole course of
Florentine history, from this government of the Secondo Popolo,
through Savonarola's Republic and the Medicean despotism, down to the
unification of Italy. Its design and essentials, however, are
Arnolfo's and the people's, though many later architects, besides
Vasari, have had their share in the completion of the present
building. Arnolfo founded the great tower of the Priors upon an older
tower of a family of magnates, the Foraboschi, and it was also known
as the Torre della Vacca. When, in those fierce democratic days, its
great bell rang to summon a Parliament in the Piazza, or to call the
companies of the city to arms, it was popularly said that "the cow"
was lowing. The upper part of the tower belongs to the fifteenth
century. Stupendous though the Palazzo is, it would have been of
vaster proportions but for the prohibition given to Arnolfo to raise
the house of the Republic where the dwellings of the Uberti had once
stood--_ribelli di Firenze e Ghibellini_. Not even the heroism of
Farinata could make this stern people less "fierce against my kindred
in all its laws," as that great Ghibelline puts it to Dante in the
_Inferno_.

The present steps and platform in front of the Palace are only the
remnants of the famous Ringhiera constructed here in the fourteenth
century, and removed in 1812. On it the Signoria used to meet to
address the crowd in the Piazza, or to enter upon their term of
office. Here, at one time, the Gonfaloniere received the Standard of
the People, and here, at a somewhat later date, the batons of command
were given to the condottieri who led the mercenaries in the pay of
the Republic. Here the famous meeting took place at which the Duke of
Athens was acclaimed _Signore a vita_ by the mob; and here, a few
months later, his Burgundian followers thrust out the most unpopular
of his agents to be torn to pieces by the besiegers. Here the Papal
Commissioners and the Eight sat on the day of Savonarola's martyrdom,
as told in the last chapter.

The inscription over the door, with the monogram of Christ, was
placed here by the Gonfaloniere Niccolò Capponi in February 1528, in
the last temporary restoration of the Republic; it originally
announced that Jesus Christ had been chosen King of the Florentine
People, but was modified by Cosimo I. The huge marble group of
Hercules and Cacus on the right, by Baccio Bandinelli, is an atrocity;
in Benvenuto Cellini's autobiography there is a rare story of how he
and Baccio wrangled about it in the Duke's presence, on which occasion
Bandinelli was stung into making a foul--but probably true--accusation
against Cellini, which might have had serious consequences. The
Marzocco on the left, the emblematical lion of Florence, is a copy
from Donatello.

The court is the work of Michelozzo, commenced in 1434, on the return
of the elder Cosimo from exile. The stucco ornamentations and
grotesques were executed in 1565, on the occasion of the marriage of
Francesco dei Medici, son of Cosimo I., with Giovanna of Austria; the
faded frescoes are partly intended to symbolise the ducal exploits,
partly views of Austrian cities in compliment to the bride. The bronze
boy with a dolphin, on the fountain in the centre of the court, was
made by Andrea Verrocchio for Lorenzo the Magnificent; it is an
exquisite little work, full of life and motion--"the little boy who
for ever half runs and half flits across the courtyard of the Palace,
while the dolphin ceaselessly struggles in the arms, whose pressure
sends the water spurting from the nostrils."[27]

  [27] Mr Armstrong in his _Lorenzo de' Medici_.

On the first floor is the _Sala del Consiglio Grande_, frequently
called the _Salone dei Cinquecento_. It was mainly constructed in 1495
by Simone del Pollaiuolo, called Cronaca from his capacity of telling
endless stories about Fra Girolamo. Here the Greater Council met,
which the Friar declared was the work of God and not of man. And here
it was that, in a famous sermon preached before the Signoria and chief
citizens on August 20th, 1496, he cried: "I want no hats, no mitres
great or small; nought would I have save what Thou hast given to Thy
saints--death; a red hat, a hat of blood--this do I desire." It was
supposed that the Pope had offered to make him a cardinal. In this
same hall on the evening of May 22nd, 1498, the evening before their
death, Savonarola was allowed an hour's interview with his two
companions; it was the first time that they had met since their
arrest, and in the meanwhile Savonarola had been told that the others
had recanted, and Domenico and Silvestro had been shown what purported
to be their master's confession, seeming, in part at least, to abjure
the cause for which Fra Domenico was yearning to shed his blood. A few
years later, in 1503, the Gonfaloniere Piero Soderini intrusted the
decoration of these walls to Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo; and
it was then that this hall, so consecrated to liberty, became _la
scuola del mondo_, the school of all the world in art; and Raphael
himself was among the most ardent of its scholars. Leonardo drew his
famous scene of the Battle of the Standard, and appears to have
actually commenced painting on the wall. Michelangelo sketched the
cartoon of a group of soldiers bathing in the Arno, suddenly surprised
by the sound of the trumpet calling them to arms; but he did not
proceed any further. These cartoons played the same part in the art of
the Cinquecento as Masaccio's Carmine frescoes in that of the
preceding century; it is the universal testimony of contemporaries
that they were the supremely perfect works of the Renaissance. Vasari
gives a full description of each--but no traces of the original works
now remain. One episode from Leonardo's cartoon is preserved in an
engraving by Edelinck after a copy, which is hardly likely to have
been a faithful one, by Rubens; and there is an earlier engraving as
well. A few figures are to be seen in a drawing at Venice, doubtfully
ascribed to Raphael. Drawings and engravings of Michelangelo's
soldiers have made a portion of his composition familiar--enough at
least to make the world realise something of the extent of its loss.

On the restoration of the Medici in 1512, the hall was used as a
barracks for their foreign soldiers; and Vasari accuses Baccio
Bandinelli of having seized the opportunity to destroy Michelangelo's
cartoon--which hardly seems probable. The frescoes which now cover the
walls are by Vasari and his school, the statues of the Medici partly
by Bandinelli, whilst that of Fra Girolamo is modern. It was in this
hall that the first Parliament of United Italy met, during the short
period when Florence was the capital. The adjoining rooms, called
after various illustrious members of the Medicean family, are adorned
with pompous uninspiring frescoes of their exploits by Vasari; in the
Salotto di Papa Clemente there is a representation of the siege of
Florence by the papal and imperial armies, which gives a fine idea of
the magnitude of the third walls of the city, Arnolfo's walls, though
even then the towers had been in part shortened.

On the second floor, the hall prettily known as the Sala dei Gigli
contains some frescoes by Domenico Ghirlandaio, executed about 1482.
They represent St Zenobius in his majesty, enthroned between Eugenius
and Crescentius, with Roman heroes as it were in attendance upon this
great patron of the Florentines. In a lunette, painted in imitation of
bas-relief, there is a peculiarly beautiful Madonna and Child with
Angels, also by Domenico Ghirlandaio. This room is sometimes called
the Sala del Orologio, from a wonderful old clock that once stood
here. The following room, into which a door with marble framework by
Benedetto da Maiano leads, is the audience chamber of the Signoria; it
was originally to have been decorated by Ghirlandaio, Botticelli,
Perugino, and Filippino Lippi--but the present frescoes are by
Salviati in the middle of the sixteenth century. Here, on the fateful
day of the _Cimento_ or Ordeal, the two Franciscans, Francesco da
Puglia and Giuliano Rondinelli, consulted with the Priors and then
passed into the Chapel to await the event. Beyond is the Priors'
Chapel, dedicated to St Bernard and decorated with frescoes in
imitation of mosaic by Ridolfo Ghirlandaio (Domenico's son). Here on
the morning of his martyrdom Savonarola said Mass, and, before
actually communicating, took the Host in his hands and uttered his
famous prayer:--

"Lord, I know that Thou art that very God, the Creator of the world
and of human nature. I know that Thou art that perfect, indivisible
and inseparable Trinity, distinct in three Persons, Father, Son, and
Holy Ghost. I know that Thou art that Eternal Word, who didst descend
from Heaven to earth in the womb of the Virgin Mary. Thou didst ascend
the wood of the Cross to shed Thy precious Blood for us, miserable
sinners. I pray Thee, my Lord; I pray Thee, my Salvation; I pray Thee,
my Consoler; that such precious Blood be not shed for me in vain, but
may be for the remission of all my sins. For these I crave Thy pardon,
from the day that I received the water of Holy Baptism even to this
moment; and I confess to Thee, Lord, my guilt. And so I crave pardon
of Thee for what offence I have done to this city and all this people,
in things spiritual and temporal, as well as for all those things
wherein of myself I am not conscious of having erred. And humbly do I
crave pardon of all those persons who are here standing round. May
they pray to God for me, and may He make me strong up to the last end,
so that the enemy may have no power over me. Amen."

Beyond the Priors' chapel are the apartments of Duke Cosimo's Spanish
wife, Eleonora of Toledo, with a little chapel decorated by Bronzino.
It was in these rooms that the Duchess stormed at poor Benvenuto
Cellini, when he passed through to speak with the Duke--as he tells us
in his autobiography. Benvenuto had an awkward knack of suddenly
appearing here whenever the Duke and Duchess were particularly busy;
but their children were hugely delighted at seeing him, and little Don
Garzia especially used to pull him by the cloak and "have the most
pleasant sport with me that such a _bambino_ could have."

A room in the tower, discovered in 1814, is supposed to be the
Alberghettino, in which the elder Cosimo was imprisoned in 1433, and
in which Savonarola passed his last days--save when he was brought down
to the Bargello to be tortured. Here the Friar wrote his meditations
upon the _In te, Domine, speravi_ and the _Miserere_--meditations
which became famous throughout Christendom. The prayer, quoted above,
is usually printed as a pendant to the _Miserere_.

On the left of the palace, the great fountain with Neptune and his
riotous gods and goddesses of the sea, by Bartolommeo Ammanati and his
contemporaries, is a characteristic production of the later
Cinquecento. No less characteristic, though in another way, is the
equestrian statue in bronze of Cosimo I., as first Grand Duke of
Tuscany, by Giovanni da Bologna; the tyrant sits on his steed,
gloomily guarding the Palace and Piazza where he has finally
extinguished the last sparks of republican liberty. It was finished
in 1594, in the days of his son Ferdinand I., the third Grand Duke.

At the beginning of the Via Gondi, adjoining the custom-house and now
incorporated in the Palazzo Vecchio, was the palace of the Captain,
the residence of the Bargello and Executor of Justice. It was here
that the Pazzi conspirators were hung out of the windows in 1478; here
that Bernardo del Nero and his associates were beheaded in 1497; and
here, in the following year, the examination of Savonarola and his
adherents was carried on. Near here, too, stood in old times the
Serraglio, or den of the lions, which was also incorporated by Vasari
into the Palace; the Via del Leone, in which Vasari's rather fine
rustica façade stands, is named from them still.

The Piazza saw the Pisan captives forced ignominiously to kiss the
Marzocco in 1364, and to build the so-called Tetto dei Pisani, which
formerly stood on the west, opposite the Palace. In this Piazza, too,
the people assembled in parliament at the sounding of the great bell.
In the fifteenth century, this simply meant that whatever party in the
State desired to alter the government, in their own favour, occupied
the openings of the Piazza with troops; and the noisy rabble that
appeared on these occasions, to roar out their assent to whatever was
proposed, had but little connection with the real People of Florence.
Among the wildest scenes that this Piazza has witnessed were those
during the rising of the Ciompi in 1378, when again and again the
populace surged round the Palace with their banners and wild cries,
until the terrified Signoria granted their demands. Here, too, took
place Savonarola's famous burnings of the Vanities in Carnival time;
large piles of these "lustful things" were surmounted by allegorical
figures of King Carnival, or of Lucifer and the seven deadly sins,
and then solemnly fired; while the people sang the _Te Deum_, the
bells rang, and the trumpets and drums of the Signoria pealed out
their loudest. But sport of less serious kind went on here
too--tournaments and shows of wild beasts and the like--things that
the Florentines dearly loved, and in which their rulers found it
politic to fool them to the top of their bent. For instance, on June
25th, 1514, there was a _caccia_ of a specially magnificent kind; a
sort of glorified bull-fight, in which a fountain surrounded by green
woods was constructed in the middle of the Piazza, and two lions, with
bears and leopards, bulls, buffaloes, stags, horses, and the like were
driven into the arena. Enormous prices were paid for seats; foreigners
came from all countries, and four Roman cardinals were conspicuous,
including Raphael's Bibbiena, disguised as Spanish gentlemen. Several
people were killed by the beasts. It was always a sore point with the
Florentines that their lions were such unsatisfactory brutes and never
distinguished themselves on these occasions; they were no match for
your Spanish bull, at a time when, in politics, the bull's master had
yoked all Italy to his triumphal car.

The _Loggia dei Priori_, now called the _Loggia dei Lanzi_ after the
German lancers of Duke Cosimo who were stationed here, was originally
built for the Priors and other magistrates to exercise public
functions, with all the display that mediæval republics knew so well
how to use. It is a kind of great open vaulted hall; a throne for a
popular government, as M. Reymond calls it. Although frequently known
as the Loggia of Orcagna, it was commenced in 1376 by Benci di Cione
and Simone Talenti, and is intermediate in style between Gothic and
Renaissance (in contrast to the pure Gothic of the Bigallo). The
sculptures above, frequently ascribed to Agnolo Gaddi and
representing the Virtues, are now assigned to Giovanni d'Ambrogio and
Jacopo di Piero, and were executed between 1380 and 1390. Among the
numerous statues that now stand beneath its roof (and which include
Giambologna's Rape of the Sabines) are two of the finest bronzes in
Florence: Donatello's _Judith and Holofernes_, cast for Cosimo the
elder, and originally in the Medicean Palace, but, on the expulsion of
the younger Piero, set up on the Ringhiera with the threatening
inscription: _exemplum Salutis Publicae_; and Benvenuto Cellini's
_Perseus with the head of Medusa_, cast in 1553 for the Grand Duke
Cosimo (then only Duke), and possibly intended as a kind of despotic
counter-blast to the Judith. The pedestal (with the exception of the
bas-relief in front, of which the original is in the Bargello) is also
Cellini's. Cellini gives us a rare account of the exhibiting of this
Perseus to the people, while the Duke himself lurked behind a window
over the door of the palace to hear what was said. He assures us that
the crowd gazed upon him--that is, the artist, not the statue--as
something altogether miraculous for having accomplished such a work,
and that two noblemen from Sicily accosted him as he walked in the
Piazza, with such ceremony as would have been too much even towards
the Pope. He took a holiday in honour of the event, sang psalms and
hymns the whole way out of Florence, and was absolutely convinced that
the _ne plus ultra_ of art had been reached.

But it is of Savonarola, and not of Benvenuto Cellini, that the Loggia
reminds us; for here was the scene of the _Cimento di Fuoco_, the
ordeal of fire, on April 7th, 1498. An immense crowd of men filled the
Piazza; women and children were excluded, but packed every inch of
windows, roofs, balconies. The streets and entrances were strongly
held by troops, while more were drawn up round the Palace under
Giovacchino della Vecchia. The platform bearing the intended pyre--a
most formidable death-trap, which was to be fired behind the champions
as soon as they were well within it--ran out from the Ringhiera
towards the centre of the Piazza. In spite of the strict proclamation
to armed men not to enter, Doffo Spini appeared with three hundred
Compagnacci, "all armed like Paladins," says Simone Filipepi,[28] "in
favour of the friars of St Francis." They entered the Piazza with a
tremendous uproar, and formed up under the Tetto dei Pisani, opposite
the Palace. Simone says that there was a pre-arranged plot, in virtue
of which they only waited for a sign from the Palace to cut the
Dominicans and their adherents to pieces. The Loggia was divided into
two parts, the half nearer the Palace assigned to the Franciscans, the
other, in which a temporary altar had been erected, to the Dominicans.
In front of the Loggia the sun flashed back from the armour of a
picked band of soldiers, under Marcuccio Salviati, apparently intended
as a counter demonstration to Doffo Spini and his young aristocrats.
The Franciscans were first on the field, and quietly took their
station. Their two champions entered the Palace, and were seen no more
during the proceedings. Then with exultant strains of the _Exsurgat
Deus_, the Dominicans slowly made their way down the Corso degli
Adimari and through the Piazza in procession, two and two. Their
fierce psalm was caught up and re-echoed by their adherents as they
passed. Preceded by a Crucifix, about two hundred of these black and
white "hounds of the Lord" entered the field of battle, followed by
Fra Domenico in a rich cope, and then Savonarola in full vestments
with the Blessed Sacrament, attended by deacon and sub-deacon. A band
of devout republican laymen, with candles and red crosses, brought up
the rear. Savonarola entered the Loggia, set the Sacrament on the
altar, and solemnly knelt in adoration.

  [28] Botticelli's brother and an ardent Piagnone, whose chronicle has
  been recently discovered and published by Villari and Casanova. The
  Franciscans were possibly sincere in the business, and mere tools in
  the hands of the Compagnacci; they are not likely to have been privy
  to the plot.

Then, while Fra Girolamo stood firm as a column, delay after delay
commenced. The Dominican's cope might be enchanted, or his robe too
for the matter of that, so Domenico was hurried into the Palace and
his garments changed. The two Franciscan stalwarts remained in the
Priors' chapel. In the meanwhile a storm passed over the city. A rush
of the Compagnacci and populace towards the Loggia was driven back by
Salviati's guard. Domenico returned with changed garments, and stood
among the Franciscans; stones hurtled about him; he would enter the
fire with the Crucifix--this was objected to; then with the
Sacrament--this was worse. Domenico was convinced that he would pass
through the ordeal scathless, and that the Sacrament would not protect
him if his cause were not just; but he was equally convinced that it
was God's will that he should not enter the fire without it. Evening
fell in the midst of the wrangling, and at last the Signoria ordered
both parties to go home. Only the efforts of Salviati and his soldiery
saved Savonarola and Domenico from being torn to pieces at the hands
of the infuriated mob, who apparently concluded that they had been
trifled with. "As the Father Fra Girolamo issued from the Loggia with
the Most Holy Sacrament in his hands," says Simone Filipepi, who was
present, "and Fra Domenico with his Crucifix, the signal was given
from the Palace to Doffo Spini to carry out his design; but he, as it
pleased God, would do nothing." The Franciscans of Santa Croce were
promised an annual subsidy of sixty pieces of silver for their share
in the day's work: "Here, take the price of the innocent blood you
have betrayed," was their greeting when they came to demand it.

In after years, Doffo Spini was fond of gossiping with Botticelli and
his brother, Simone Filipepi, and made no secret of his intention of
killing Savonarola on this occasion. Yet, of all the Friar's
persecutors, he was the only one that showed any signs of penitence
for what he had done. "On the ninth day of April, 1503," writes Simone
in his Chronicle, "as I, Simone di Mariano Filipepi, was leaving my
house to go to vespers in San Marco, Doffo Spini, who was in the
company of Bartolommeo di Lorenzo Carducci, saluted me. Bartolommeo
turned to me, and said that Fra Girolamo and the Piagnoni had spoilt
and undone the city; whereupon many words passed between him and me,
which I will not set down here. But Doffo interposed, and said that he
had never had any dealings with Fra Girolamo, until the time when, as
a member of the Eight, he had to examine him in prison; and that, if
he had heard Fra Girolamo earlier and had been intimate with him,
'even as Simone here'--turning to me--'I would have been a more ardent
partisan of his than even Simone, for nothing save good was ever seen
in him even unto his death.'"


THE UFFIZI

Beyond the Palazzo Vecchio, between the Piazza and the Arno, stands
the Palazzo degli Uffizi, which Giorgio Vasari reared in the third
quarter of the sixteenth century, for Cosimo I. It contains the
Archives, the Biblioteca Nazionale (which includes the Palatine and
Magliabecchian Libraries, and, like all similar institutions in
Italy, is generously thrown open to all comers without reserve), and,
above all, the great picture gallery commenced by the Grand Dukes,
usually simply known as the Uffizi and now officially the Galleria
Reale degli Uffizi, which, together with its continuation in the Pitti
Palace across the river, is undoubtedly the finest collection of
pictures in the world.

  [Illustration: LOOKING THROUGH VASARI'S LOGGIA, UFFIZI]

Leaving the double lines of illustrious Florentines, men great in the
arts of war and peace, in their marble niches watching over the
pigeons who throng the Portico, we ascend to the picture gallery by
the second door to the left.[29]

  [29] The following notes make no pretence at furnishing a catalogue,
  but are simply intended to indicate the more important Italian
  pictures, especially the principal masterpieces of, or connected with
  the Florentine school.


RITRATTI DEI PITTORI--PRIMO CORRIDORE.

On the way up, four rooms on the right contain the Portraits of the
Painters, many of them painted by themselves. In the further room,
Filippino Lippi by himself, fragment of a fresco (286). Raphael (288)
at the age of twenty-three, with his spiritual, almost feminine
beauty, painted by himself at Urbino during his Florentine period,
about 1506. This is Raphael before the worldly influence of Rome had
fallen upon him, the youth who came from Urbino and Perugia to the
City of the Lilies with the letter of recommendation from Urbino's
Duchess to Piero Soderini, to sit at the feet of Leonardo and
Michelangelo, and wander with Fra Bartolommeo through the cloisters of
San Marco. Titian (384), "in which he appears, painted by himself, on
the confines of old age, vigorous and ardent still, fully conscious,
moreover, though without affectation, of pre-eminent genius and
supreme artistic rank" (Mr C. Phillips). Tintoretto, by himself (378);
Andrea del Sarto, by himself (1176); a genuine portrait of
Michelangelo (290), but of course not by himself; Rubens, by himself
(228). An imaginary portrait of Leonardo da Vinci (292), of a much
later period, may possibly preserve some tradition of the "magician's"
appearance; the Dosso Dossi is doubtful; those of Giorgione and
Bellini are certainly apocryphal. In the second room are two portraits
of Rembrandt by himself. In the third room Angelica Kauffmann and
Vigée Le Brun are charming in their way. In the fourth room, English
visitors cannot fail to welcome several of their own painters of the
nineteenth century, including Mr Watts.

Passing the Medicean busts at the head of the stairs, the famous Wild
Boar and the two Molossian Hounds, we enter the first or eastern
corridor, containing paintings of the earlier masters, mingled with
ancient busts and sarcophagi. The best specimens of the Giotteschi are
an Agony in the Garden (8), wrongly ascribed to Giotto himself; an
Entombment (27), ascribed to a Giotto di Stefano, called Giottino, a
painter of whom hardly anything but the nickname is known; an
Annunciation (28), ascribed to Agnolo Gaddi; and an altar-piece by
Giovanni da Milano (32). There are some excellent early Sienese
paintings; a Madonna and Child with Angels, by Pietro Lorenzetti,
1340 (15); the Annunciation, by Simone Martini and Lippo Memmi (23); and
a very curious picture of the Hermits of the Thebaid (16), a kind of
devout fairy-land painted possibly by one of the Lorenzetti, in the
spirit of those delightfully naïve _Vite del Santi Padri_. Lorenzo
Monaco, or Don Lorenzo, a master who occupies an intermediate position
between the Giotteschi and the Quattrocento, is represented by the
Mystery of the Passion (40), a symbolical picture painted in 1404, of a
type that Angelico brought to perfection in a fresco in San Marco; the
Adoration of the Magi (39, the scenes in the frame by a later hand),
and Madonna and Saints (41). The portrait of Giovanni dei Medici (43)
is by an unknown hand of the Quattrocento. Paolo Uccello's Battle (52)
is mainly a study in perspective. The Annunciation (53), by Neri di
Bicci di Lorenzo, is a fair example of one of the least progressive
painters of the Quattrocento. The pictures by Alessio Baldovinetti (56
and 60) and Cosimo Rosselli (63 and 65) are tolerable examples of
very uninteresting fifteenth century masters. The allegorical figures
of the Virtues (69-73), ascribed to Piero Pollaiuolo, are second-rate;
and the same may be said of an Annunciation (such is the real subject
of 81) and the Perseus and Andromeda pictures (85, 86, 87) by Piero di
Cosimo. But the real gem of this corridor is the Madonna and
Child (74), which Luca Signorelli painted for Lorenzo dei Medici, a
picture which profoundly influenced Michelangelo; the splendidly
modelled nude figures of men in the background transport us into the
golden age.


TRIBUNA.

The famous Tribuna is supposed to contain the masterpieces of the
whole collection, though the lover of the Quattrocento will naturally
seek his best-loved favourites elsewhere. Of the five ancient
sculptures in the centre of the hall the best is that of the crouching
barbarian slave, who is preparing his knife to flay Marsyas. It is a
fine work of the Pergamene school. The celebrated Venus dei Medici is
a typical Græco-Roman work, the inscription at its base being a
comparatively modern forgery. It was formerly absurdly overpraised,
and is in consequence perhaps too much depreciated at the present day.
The remaining three--the Satyr, the Wrestlers, and the young
Apollo--have each been largely and freely restored.

Turning to the pictures, we have first the Madonna del
Cardellino (1129), painted by Raphael during his Florentine period when
under the influence of Fra Bartolommeo, in 1506 or thereabouts, and
afterwards much damaged and restored: still one of the most beautiful
of his early Madonnas. The St. John the Baptist (1127), ascribed to
Raphael, is only a school piece, though from a design of the
master's. The Madonna del Pozzo (1125), in spite of its hard and
over-smooth colouring, was at one time attributed to Raphael; its
ascription to Francia Bigio is somewhat conjectural. The portrait of a
Lady wearing a wreath (1123), and popularly called the Fornarina,
originally ascribed to Giorgione and later to Raphael, is believed to
be by Sebastiano del Piombo. Then come a lady's portrait, ascribed to
Raphael (1120); another by a Veronese master, erroneously ascribed to
Mantegna, and erroneously said to represent the Duchess Elizabeth of
Urbino (1121); Bernardino Luini's Daughter of Herodias (1135), a fine
study of a female Italian criminal of the Renaissance; Perugino's
portrait of Francesco delle Opere, holding a scroll inscribed _Timete
Deum_, an admirable picture painted in oils about the year 1494, and
formerly supposed to be a portrait of Perugino by himself (287);
portrait of Evangelista Scappa, ascribed to Francia (1124); and a
portrait of a man, by Sebastiano del Piombo (3458). Raphael's Pope
Julius II. (1131) is a grand and terrible portrait of the tremendous
warrior Pontiff, whom the Romans called a second Mars. Vasari says
that in this picture he looks so exactly like himself that "one
trembles before him as if he were still alive." Albert Dürer's
Adoration of the Magi (1141) and Lucas van Leyden's Mystery of the
Passion (1143) are powerful examples of the religious painting of the
North, that loved beauty less for its own sake than did the Italians.
The latter should be compared with similar pictures by Don Lorenzo and
Fra Angelico. Titian's portrait of the Papal Nuncio Beccadelli (1116),
painted in 1552, although a decidedly fine work, has been rather
overpraised.

Michelangelo's Holy Family (1139) is the only existing easel picture
that the master completed. It was painted for the rich merchant,
Angelo Doni (who haggled in a miserly fashion over the price and was
in consequence forced to pay double the sum agreed upon), about 1504,
in the days of the Gonfaloniere Soderini, when Michelangelo was
engaged upon the famous cartoon for the Sala del Maggior Consiglio.
Like Luca Signorelli, Michelangelo has introduced naked figures,
apparently shepherds, into his background. "In the Doni Madonna of the
Uffizi," writes Walter Pater, "Michelangelo actually brings the pagan
religion, and with it the unveiled human form, the sleepy-looking
fauns of a Dionysiac revel, into the presence of the Madonna, as
simpler painters had introduced other products of the earth, birds or
flowers; and he has given to that Madonna herself much of the uncouth
energy of the older and more primitive 'Mighty Mother.'" The painters
introduced into their pictures what they loved best, in earth or sky,
as votive offerings to the Queen of Heaven; and what Signorelli and
Michelangelo best loved was the human form. This is reflected in the
latter's own lines:--

     Nè Dio, sua grazia, mi si mostra altrove,
     più che'n alcun leggiadro e mortal velo,
     e quel sol amo, perchè'n quel si specchia.

"Nor does God vouchsafe to reveal Himself to me anywhere more than in
some lovely mortal veil, and that alone I love, because He is mirrored
therein."

In the strongest possible contrast to Michelangelo's picture are the
two examples of the softest master of the Renaissance--Correggio's
Repose on the Flight to Egypt (1118), and his Madonna adoring the
Divine Child (1134). The former, with its rather out of place St.
Francis of Assisi, is a work of what is known as Correggio's
transition period, 1515-1518, after he had painted his earlier easel
pictures and before commencing his great fresco work at Parma; the
latter, a more characteristic picture, is slightly later and was given
by the Duke of Mantua to Cosimo II. The figures of Prophets by Fra
Bartolommeo (1130 and 1126), the side-wings of a picture now in the
Pitti Gallery, are not remarkable in any way. The Madonna and Child
with the Baptist and St. Sebastian (1122) is a work of Perugino's
better period.

There remain the two famous Venuses of Titian. The so-called Urbino
Venus (1117)--a motive to some extent borrowed, and slightly coarsened
in the borrowing, from Giorgione's picture at Dresden--is much the
finer of the two. It was painted for Francesco Maria della Rovere,
Duke of Urbino, and, although not a portrait of Eleonora Gonzaga, who
was then a middle-aged woman, it was certainly intended to conjure up
the beauty of her youth. What Eleonora really looked like at this
time, you can see in the first of the two Venetian rooms, where
Titian's portrait of her, painted at about the same date, hangs. The
Venus and Cupid (1108) is a later work; the goddess is the likeness of
a model who very frequently appears in the works of Titian and Palma.


SCUOLA TOSCANA.

On the left we pass out of the Tribuna to three rooms devoted to the
Tuscan school.

The first contains the smaller pictures, including several priceless
Angelicos and Botticellis. Fra Angelico's Naming of St. John (1162),
Marriage of the Blessed Virgin to St. Joseph (1178), and her Death
(1184), are excellent examples of his delicate execution and spiritual
expression in his smaller, miniature-like works. Antonio Pollaiuolo's
Labours of Hercules (1153) is one of the masterpieces of this most
uncompromising realist of the Quattrocento. Either by Antonio or his
brother Piero, is also the portrait of that monster of iniquity,
Galeazzo Maria Sforza, Duke of Milan (30). Sandro Botticelli's Calumny
(1182) is supposed to have been painted as a thankoffering to a friend
who had defended him from the assaults of slanderous tongues; it is a
splendid example of his dramatic intensity, the very statues in their
niches taking part in the action. The subject--taken from Lucian's
description of a picture by Apelles of Ephesus--was frequently painted
by artists of the Renaissance, and there is a most magnificent drawing
of the same by Andrea Mantegna at the British Museum, which was copied
by Rembrandt. On the judgment-seat sits a man with ears like those of
Midas, into which Ignorance and Suspicion on either side ever whisper.
Before him stands Envy,--a hideous, pale, and haggard man, seeming
wasted by some slow disease. He is making the accusation and leading
Calumny, a scornful Botticellian beauty, who holds in one hand a torch
and with the other drags her victim by the hair to the judge's feet.
Calumny is tended and adorned by two female figures, Artifice and
Deceit. But Repentance slowly follows, in black mourning habit; while
naked Truth--the Botticellian Venus in another form--raises her hand
in appeal to the heavens.

The rather striking portrait of a painter (1163) is usually supposed
to be Andrea Verrocchio, by Lorenzo di Credi, his pupil and successor;
Mr Berenson, however, considers that it is Perugino and by Domenico
Ghirlandaio. On the opposite wall are two very early Botticellis,
Judith returning from the camp of the Assyrians (1156) and the finding
of the body of Holofernes (1158), in a scale of colouring differing
from that of his later works. The former is one of those pictures
which have been illumined for us by Ruskin, who regards it as the only
picture that is true to Judith; "The triumph of Miriam over a fallen
host, the fire of exulting mortal life in an immortal hour, the purity
and severity of a guardian angel--all are here; and as her servant
follows, carrying indeed the head, but invisible--(a mere thing to be
carried--no more to be so much as thought of)--she looks only at her
mistress, with intense, servile, watchful love. Faithful, not in these
days of fear only, but hitherto in all her life, and afterwards for
ever." Walter Pater has read the picture in a different sense, and
sees in it Judith "returning home across the hill country, when the
great deed is over, and the moment of revulsion come, and the olive
branch in her hand is becoming a burden."

The portrait of Andrea del Sarto by himself (280) represents him in
the latter days of his life, and was painted on a tile in 1529, about
a year before his death, with some colours that remained over after he
had finished the portrait of one of the Vallombrosan monks; his wife
kept it by her until her death. The very powerful likeness of an old
man in white cap and gown (1167), a fresco ascribed to Masaccio, is
more probably the work of Filippino Lippi. The famous Head of Medusa
(1159) must be seen with grateful reverence by all lovers of English
poetry, for it was admired by Shelley and inspired him with certain
familiar and exceedingly beautiful stanzas; but as for its being a
work of Leonardo da Vinci, it is now almost universally admitted to be
a comparatively late forgery, to supply the place of the lost Medusa
of which Vasari speaks. The portrait (1157), also ascribed to
Leonardo, is better, but probably no more authentic. Here is a most
dainty little example of Fra Bartolommeo's work on a small scale
(1161), representing the Circumcision and the Nativity, with the
Annunciation in grisaille on the back. Botticelli's St. Augustine
(1179) is an early work, and, like the Judith, shows his artistic
derivation from Fra Lippo Lippi, to whom indeed it was formerly
ascribed. His portrait of Piero di Lorenzo dei Medici (1154), a
splendid young man in red cap and flowing dark hair, has been already
referred to in chapter iii.; it was formerly supposed to be a likeness
of Pico della Mirandola. It was painted before Piero's expulsion from
Florence, probably during the life-time of the Magnificent, and
represents him before he degenerated into the low tyrannical
blackguard of later years; he apparently wishes to appeal to the
memory of his great-grandfather Cosimo, whose medallion he holds, to
find favour with his unwilling subjects. The portraits of Duke
Cosimo's son and grandchild, Don Garzia and Donna Maria (1155 and
1164), by Bronzino, should be noted. Finally we have the famous
picture of Perseus freeing Andromeda, by Piero di Cosimo (1312). It is
about the best specimen of his fantastic conceptions to be seen in
Florence, and the monster itself is certainly a triumph of a somewhat
unhealthy imagination nourished in solitude on an odd diet.

In the second room are larger works of the great Tuscans. The
Adoration of the Magi (1252) is one of the very few authentic works of
Leonardo; it was one of his earliest productions, commenced in 1478,
and, like so many other things of his, never finished. The St.
Sebastian (1279) is one of the masterpieces of that wayward Lombard or
rather Piedmontese--although we now associate him with Siena--who
approached nearest of all to the art of Leonardo, Giovanni Antonio
Bazzi, known still as Sodoma. Ridolfo Ghirlandaio's Miracles of
Zenobius (1277 and 1275) are excellent works by a usually second-rate
master. The Visitation with its predella, by Mariotto Albertinelli
(1259), painted in 1503, is incomparably the greatest picture that Fra
Bartolommeo's wild friend and fellow student ever produced, and one in
which he most nearly approaches the best works of Bartolommeo himself.
"The figures, however," Morelli points out, "are less refined and
noble than those of the Frate, and the foliage of the trees is
executed with miniature-like precision, which is never the case in the
landscapes of the latter." Andrea del Sarto's genial and kindly St.
James with the orphans (1254), is one of his last works; it was
painted to serve as a standard in processions, and has consequently
suffered considerably. Bronzino's Descent of Christ into Hades (1271),
that "heap of cumbrous nothingnesses and sickening offensivenesses,"
as Ruskin pleasantly called it, need only be seen to be loathed. The
so-called Madonna delle Arpie, or our Lady of the Harpies, from the
figures on the pedestal beneath her feet (1112), is perhaps the finest
of all Andrea del Sarto's pictures; the Madonna is a highly idealised
likeness of his own wife Lucrezia, and some have tried to recognise
the features of the painter himself in the St. John:--

     "You loved me quite enough, it seems to-night.
     This must suffice me here. What would one have?
     In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more chance--
     Four great walls in the New Jerusalem
     Meted on each side by the Angel's reed,
     For Leonard, Rafael, Agnolo and me
     To cover--the three first without a wife,
     While I have mine! So--still they overcome
     Because there's still Lucrezia,--as I choose."

The full-length portrait of Cosimo the Elder (1267), the Pater
Patriae (so the flattery of the age hailed the man who said that a
city destroyed was better than a city lost), was painted by Pontormo
from some fifteenth century source, as a companion piece to his
portrait here of Duke Cosimo I. (1270). The admirable portrait of
Lorenzo the Magnificent by Vasari (1269) is similarly constructed from
contemporary materials, and is probably the most valuable thing that
Vasari has left to us in the way of painting. The unfinished picture
by Fra Bartolommeo (1265), representing our Lady enthroned with St.
Anne, the guardian of the Republic, watching over her and interceding
for Florence, while the patrons of the city gather round for her
defence, was intended for the altar in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio
of the Palazzo Vecchio; it is conceived in something of the same
spirit that made the last inheritors of Savonarola's tradition and
teaching fondly believe that Angels would man the walls of Florence,
rather than that she should again fall into the hands of her former
tyrants, the Medici. The great Madonna and Child with four Saints and
two Angels scattering flowers, by Filippino Lippi (1268), was painted
in 1485 for the room in the Palazzo Vecchio in which the Otto di
Pratica held their meetings. The Adoration of the Magi (1257), also by
Filippino Lippi, painted in 1496, apart from its great value as a work
of art, has a curious historical significance; the Magi and their
principal attendants, who are thus pushing forwards to display their
devotion to Our Lady of Florence and the Child whom the Florentines
were to elect their King, are the members of the younger branch of the
Medici, who have returned to the city now that Piero has been
expelled, and are waiting their chance. See how they have already
replaced the family of the elder Cosimo, who occupy this same
position in a similar picture painted some eighteen years before by
Sandro Botticelli, Filippino's master. At this epoch they had
ostentatiously altered their name of Medici and called themselves
Popolani, but were certainly intriguing against Fra Girolamo. The old
astronomer kneeling to our extreme left is the elder Piero Francesco,
watching the adventurous game for a throne that his children are
preparing; the most prominent figure in the picture, from whose head a
page is lifting the crown, is Pier Francesco's son, Giovanni, who will
soon woo Caterina Sforza, the lady of Forlì, and make her the mother
of Giovanni delle Bande Nere; and the precious vessel which he is to
offer to the divine Child is handed to him by the younger Pier
Francesco, the father of Lorenzaccio, that "Tuscan Brutus" whose
dagger was to make Giovanni's grandson, Cosimo, the sole lord of
Florence and her empire.[30]

  [30] See the Genealogical Table in Appendix. The elder Pier Francesco
  was dead many years before this picture was painted. It was for his
  other son, Lorenzo, that Sandro Botticelli drew his illustrations of
  the _Divina Commedia_.

Granacci's Madonna of the Girdle (1280), over the door, formerly in
San Piero Maggiore, is a good example of a painter who imitated most
of his contemporaries and had little individuality. On easels in the
middle of the room are (3452) Venus, by Lorenzo di Credi, a
conscientious attempt to follow the fashion of the age and handle a
subject quite alien to his natural sympathies--for Lorenzo di Credi
was one of those who sacrificed their studies of the nude on
Savonarola's pyre of the Vanities; and (3436) an Adoration of the
Magi, a cartoon of Sandro Botticelli's, coloured by a later hand,
marvellously full of life in movement, intense and passionate, in
which--as though the painter anticipated the Reformation--the
followers of the Magi are fighting furiously with each other in their
desire to find the right way to the Stable of Bethlehem!

The third room of the Tuscan School contains some of the truest
masterpieces of the whole collection. The Epiphany, by Domenico
Ghirlandaio (1295), painted in 1487, is one of that prosaic master's
best easel pictures. The wonderful Annunciation (1288), in which the
Archangel has alighted upon the flowers in the silence of an Italian
twilight, with a mystical landscape of mountains and rivers, and
far-off cities in the background, may possibly be an early work of
Leonardo da Vinci, to whom it is officially assigned, but is ascribed
by contemporary critics to Leonardo's master, Andrea Verrocchio. The
least satisfactory passage is the rather wooden face and inappropriate
action of the Madonna; Leonardo would surely not have made her, on
receiving the angelic salutation, put her finger into her book to keep
the place. After Three Saints by one of the Pollaiuoli (1301) and two
smaller pictures by Lorenzo di Credi (1311 and 1313), we come to Piero
della Francesca's grand portraits of Federigo of Montefeltro, Duke of
Urbino, and his wife, Battista Sforza (1300); on the reverse, the Duke
and Duchess are seen in triumphal cars surrounded with allegorical
pageantry. Federigo is always, as here, represented in profile,
because he lost his right eye and had the bridge of his nose broken in
a tournament. The three predella scenes (1298) are characteristic
examples of the minor works of Piero's great pupil, Luca Signorelli of
Cortona.

On the opposite wall are four Botticellian pictures. The Magnificat
(1267 _bis_)--Sandro's most famous and familiar tondo--in which the
Madonna rather sadly writes the Magnificat, while Angels cluster round
to crown their Queen, to offer ink and book, or look into the thing
that she has written, while the Dove hovers above her, is full of the
haunting charm, the elusive mystery, the vague yearning, which makes
the fascination of Botticelli to-day. She already seems to be
anticipating the Passion of that Child--so unmistakably divine--who is
guiding her hand. The Madonna of the Pomegranate (1289) is a somewhat
similar, but less beautiful tondo; the Angel faces, who are said to be
idealised portraits of the Medicean children, have partially lost
their angelic look. The Fortitude (1299) is one of Sandro's earliest
paintings, and its authenticity has been questioned; she seems to be
dreading, almost shrinking from some great battle at hand, of which no
man can foretell the end. The Annunciation (1316) is rather
Botticellian in conception; but the colouring and execution generally
do not suggest the master himself. Antonio Pollaiuolo's Prudence
(1306) is a harsh companion to Sandro's Fortitude. The tondo (1291) of
the Holy Family, by Luca Signorelli, is one of his best works in this
kind; the colouring is less heavy than is usual with him, and the
Child is more divine. Of the two carefully finished Annunciations by
Lorenzo di Credi (1314, 1160), the latter is the earlier and finer.
Fra Filippo's little Madonna of the Sea (1307), with her happy
boy-like Angel attendants, is one of the monk's most attractive and
characteristic works; perhaps the best of all his smaller pictures.
And we have left to the last Fra Angelico's divinest dream of the
Coronation of the Madonna in the Empyrean Heaven of Heavens (1290),
amidst exultant throngs of Saints and Angels absorbed in the Beatific
Vision of Paradise. It is the pictorial equivalent of Bernard's most
ardent sermons on the Assumption of Mary and of the mystic musings of
John of Damascus. Here are "the Angel choirs of Angelico, with the
flames on their white foreheads waving brighter as they move, and the
sparkles streaming from their purple wings like the glitter of many
suns upon a sounding sea, listening in the pauses of alternate song,
for the prolonging of the trumpet blast, and the answering of psaltery
and cymbal, throughout the endless deep, and from all the star shores
of heaven."[31]

  [31] _Modern Painters_, vol. ii.


SALA DI MAESTRI DIVERSI ITALIANI.

In the small room which opens out of the Tribune, on the opposite side
to these three Tuscan rooms, are two perfect little gems of more
northern Italian painting. Mantegna's Madonna of the Quarries (1025),
apart from its nobility of conception and grand austerity of
sentiment, is a positive marvel of minute drawing with the point of
the _pennello_. Every detail in the landscape, with the winding road
up to the city on the hill, the field labourers in the meadow, the
shepherds and travellers, on the left, and the stone-cutterss among
the caverns on the right, preparing stone for the sculptors and
architects of Florence and Rome, is elaborately rendered with
exquisite delicacy and finish. It was painted at Rome in 1488, while
Mantegna was working on his frescoes (now destroyed) for Pope Innocent
VIII. in a chapel of the Vatican. The other is a little Madonna and
Child with two Angels playing musical instruments, by Correggio
(1002), a most exquisite little picture in an almost perfect state of
preservation, formerly ascribed to Titian, but entirely characteristic
of Correggio's earliest period when he was influenced by Mantegna and
the Ferrarese.

Beyond are the Dutch, Flemish, German, and French pictures which do
not come into our present scope--though they include several excellent
works as, notably, a little Madonna by Hans Memlinc and two Apostles
by Albert Dürer. The cabinet of the gems contains some of the
treasures left by the Medicean Grand Dukes, including work by Cellini
and Giovanni da Bologna.


SCUOLA VENETA.

Crossing the short southern corridor, with some noteworthy ancient
sculptury, we pass down the long western corridor. Out of this open
first the two rooms devoted to the Venetian school. In the first, to
seek the best only, are Titian's portraits of Francesco Maria della
Rovere, third Duke of Urbino, and Eleonora Gonzaga, his duchess (605
and 599), painted in 1537. A triptych by Mantegna (1111)--the
Adoration of the Kings, between the Circumcision and the Ascension--is
one of the earlier works of the great Paduan master; the face of the
Divine Child in the Circumcision is marvellously painted. The Madonna
by the Lake by Giovanni Bellini (631), also called the Allegory of the
Tree of Life, is an exceedingly beautiful picture, one of Bellini's
later works. Titian's Flora (626), an early work of the master,
charming in its way, has been damaged and rather overpraised. In the
second room, are three works by Giorgione; the Judgment of Solomon and
the Ordeal of Moses (630 and 621), with their fantastic costumes and
poetically conceived landscapes, are very youthful works indeed; the
portrait of a Knight of Malta (622) is more mature, and one of the
noblest of Venetian portraits. Florence thus possesses more authentic
works of this wonderful, almost mythical, Venetian than does Venice
herself. Here, too, is usually--except when it is in request
elsewhere for the copyist--Titian's Madonna and Child with the boy
John Baptist, and the old Antony Abbot, leaning on his staff and
watching the flower play (633)--the most beautiful of Titian's early
Giorgionesque Madonnas.

  [Illustration: VENUS
  BY SANDRO BOTTICELLI]


SALA DI LORENZO MONACO.

The following passage leads to the Sala di Lorenzo Monaco, the room
which bears the name of the austere monk of Camaldoli, and, hallowed
by the presence of Fra Angelico's Madonna, seems at times almost to
re-echo still with the music of the Angel choir; but to which the
modern worshipper turns to adore the Venus of the Renaissance rising
from the Sea. For here is Sandro Botticelli's famous Birth of Venus
(39), the most typical picture of the Quattrocento, painted for
Lorenzo dei Medici and in part inspired by certain lines of Angelo
Poliziano. But let all description be left to the golden words of
Walter Pater in his _Renaissance_:--

"At first, perhaps, you are attracted only by a quaintness of design,
which seems to recall all at once whatever you have read of Florence
in the fifteenth century; afterwards you may think that this
quaintness must be incongruous with the subject, and that the colour
is cadaverous or at least cold. And yet, the more you come to
understand what imaginative colouring really is, that all colour is no
mere delightful quality of natural things, but a spirit upon them by
which they become expressive to the spirit, the better you will like
this peculiar quality of colour; and you will find that quaint design
of Botticelli's a more direct inlet into the Greek temper than the
works of the Greeks themselves, even of the finest period. Of the
Greeks as they really were, of their difference from ourselves, of
the aspects of their outward life, we know far more than Botticelli,
or his most learned contemporaries; but for us long familiarity has
taken off the edge of the lesson, and we are hardly conscious of what
we owe to the Hellenic spirit. But in pictures like this of
Botticelli's you have a record of the first impression made by it on
minds turned back towards it, in almost painful aspiration, from a
world in which it had been ignored so long; and in the passion, the
energy, the industry of realisation, with which Botticelli carries out
his intention, is the exact measure of the legitimate influence over
the human mind of the imaginative system of which this is the central
myth. The light is indeed cold--mere sunless dawn; but a later painter
would have cloyed you with sunshine; and you can see the better for
that quietness in the morning air each long promontory, as it slopes
down to the water's edge. Men go forth to their labours until the
evening; but she is awake before them, and you might think that the
sorrow in her face was at the thought of the whole long day of love
yet to come. An emblematical figure of the wind blows hard across the
grey water, moving forward the dainty-lipped shell on which she sails,
the sea 'showing his teeth' as it moves in thin lines of foam, and
sucking in, one by one, the falling roses, each severe in outline,
plucked off short at the stalk, but embrowned a little, as
Botticelli's flowers always are. Botticelli meant all that imagery to
be altogether pleasurable; and it was partly an incompleteness of
resources, inseparable from the art of that time, that subdued and
chilled it; but his predilection for minor tones counts also; and what
is unmistakable is the sadness with which he has conceived the goddess
of pleasure, as the depositary of a great power over the lives of
men."

In this same room are five other masterpieces of early Tuscan
painting. Don Lorenzo's Coronation of the Madonna (1309), though
signed and dated 1413, may be regarded as the last great altar-piece
of the school of Giotto and his followers. It has been terribly
repainted. The presence in the most prominent position of St. Benedict
and St. Romuald in their white robes shows that it was painted for a
convent of Camaldolese monks. The predella, representing the Adoration
of the Magi and scenes from the life of St. Benedict, includes a very
sweet little picture of the last interview of the saint with his
sister Scholastica, when, in answer to her prayers, God sent such a
storm that her brother, although unwilling to break his monastic rule,
was forced to spend the night with her. "I asked you a favour," she
told him, "and you refused it me; I asked it of Almighty God, and He
has granted it to me." In Browning's poem, Don Lorenzo is one of the
models specially recommended to Lippo Lippi by his superiors:--

     "You're not of the true painters, great and old;
     Brother Angelico's the man, you'll find;
     Brother Lorenzo stands his single peer;
     Fag on at flesh, you'll never make the third."

The Madonna and Child with St. Francis and St. John Baptist, St.
Zenobius and St. Lucy (1305), is one of the very few authentic works
by Domenico Veneziano, one of the great innovators in the painting of
the fifteenth century.

Sandro Botticelli's Adoration of the Magi (1286), painted for Santa
Maria Novella, is enthusiastically praised by Vasari. It is not a very
characteristic work of the painter's, but contains admirable portraits
of the Medici and their court. The first king, kneeling up alone
before the Divine Child, is Cosimo the Elder himself, according to
Vasari, "the most faithful and animated likeness of all now known to
exist of him"; the other two kings are his two sons, Piero il Gottoso
in the centre, Giovanni di Cosimo on the right. The black-haired youth
with folded hands, standing behind Giovanni, is Giuliano, who fell in
the Pazzi conspiracy. On the extreme left, standing with his hands
resting upon the hilt of his sword, is Lorenzo the Magnificent, who
avenged Giuliano's death; behind Lorenzo, apparently clinging to him
as though in anticipation or recollection of the conspiracy, is Angelo
Poliziano. The rather sullen-looking personage, with a certain dash of
sensuality about him, on our extreme right, gazing out of the picture,
is Sandro himself. This picture, which was probably painted slightly
before or shortly after the murder of Giuliano, has been called "the
Apotheosis of the Medici"; it should be contrasted with the very
different Nativity, now in the National Gallery, which Sandro painted
many years later, in 1500, and which is full of the mystical
aspirations of the disciples of Savonarola.

The Madonna and Child with Angels, two Archangels standing guard and
two Bishops kneeling in adoration (1297), is a rich and attractive
work by Domenico Ghirlandaio. Fra Angelico's Tabernacle (17), Madonna
and Child with the Baptist and St. Mark, and the famous series of
much-copied Angels, was painted for the Guild of Flax-merchants, whose
patron was St. Mark. The admirable Predella (1294) represents St. Mark
reporting St. Peter's sermons, and St. Mark's martyrdom, together with
the Adoration of the Magi.

       *       *       *       *       *

Passing down the corridor, we come to the entrance to the passage
which leads across the Ponte Vecchio to the Pitti Palace. There are
some fine Italian engravings on the way down. The halls of the
Inscriptions and Cameos contain ancient statues as well, including the
so-called dying Alexander, and some of those so over-praised by
Shelley. Among the pictures in the Sala del Baroccio, is a very genial
lady with a volume of Petrarch's sonnets, by Andrea del Sarto (188).
Here, too, are some excellent portraits by Bronzino; a lady with a
missal (198); a rather pathetic picture of Eleonora of Toledo, the
wife of Cosimo I., with Don Garzia--the boy with whom Cellini used to
romp (172); Bartolommeo Panciatichi (159); Lucrezia Panciatichi (154),
a peculiarly sympathetic rendering of an attractive personality.
Sustermans' Galileo (163) is also worth notice. The Duchess Eleonora
died almost simultaneously with her sons, Giovanni and Garzia, in
1562, and there arose in consequence a legend that Garzia had murdered
Giovanni, and had, in his turn, been killed by his own father, and
that Eleonora had either also been murdered by the Duke or died of
grief. Like many similar stories of the Medicean princes, this appears
to be entirely fictitious.

The Hall of Niobe contains the famous series of statues representing
the destruction of Niobe and her children at the hands of Apollo and
Artemis. They are Roman or Græco-Roman copies of a group assigned by
tradition to the fourth century B.C., and which was brought from Asia
Minor to Rome in the year 35 B.C. The finest of these statues is that
of Niobe's son, the young man who is raising his cloak upon his arm as
a shield; he was originally protecting a sister, who, already pierced
by the fatal arrow, leaned against his knee as she died.

In a room further on there is an interesting series of miniature
portraits of the Medici, from Giovanni di Averardo to the family of
Duke Cosimo. Six of the later ones are by Bronzino.

At the end of the corridor, by Baccio Bandinelli's copy of the
Laocoön, are three rooms containing the drawings and sketches of the
Old Masters. It would take a book as long as the present to deal
adequately with them. Many of the Florentine painters, who were always
better draughtsmen than they were colourists, are seen to much greater
advantage in their drawings than in their finished pictures. Besides a
most rich collection of the early men and their successors, from
Angelico to Bartolommeo, there are here several of Raphael's cartoons
for Madonnas and two for his St. George and the Dragon; many of the
most famous and characteristic drawings of Leonardo da Vinci (and it
is from his drawings alone that we can now get any real notion of this
"Magician of the Renaissance"); and some important specimens of
Michelangelo. Here, too, is Andrea Mantegna's terrible Judith,
conceived in the spirit of some Roman heroine, which once belonged to
Vasari and was highly valued by him. It is dated 1491, and should be
compared with Botticelli's rendering of the same theme.




CHAPTER VI

_Or San Michele and the Sesto di San Piero_

     "Una figura della Donna mia
     s'adora, Guido, a San Michele in Orto,
     che di bella sembianza, onesta e pia,
     de' peccatori è gran rifugio e porto."
         (_Guido Cavalcanti_ to _Guido Orlandi_.)


At the end of the bustling noisy Via Calzaioli, the Street of the
Stocking-makers, rises the Oratory of Our Lady, known as San Michele
in Orto, "St. Michael in the Garden." Around its outer walls,
enshrined in little temples of their own, stand great statues of
saints in marble and bronze by the hands of the greatest sculptors of
Florence--the canonised patrons of the Arts or Guilds, keeping guard
over the thronging crowds that pass below. This is the grand monument
of the wealth and taste, devotion and charity, of the commercial
democracy of the Middle Ages.

  [Illustration: ORCAGNA'S TABERNACLE, OR SAN MICHELE]

The ancient church of San Michele in Orto was demolished by order of
the Commune in the thirteenth century, to make way for a piazza for
the grain and corn market, in the centre of which Arnolfo di Cambio
built a loggia in 1280. Upon one of the pilasters of this loggia there
was painted a picture of the Madonna, held in highest reverence by the
frequenters of the market; a special company or sodality of laymen
was formed, the _Laudesi_ of Our Lady of Or San Michele, who met here
every evening to sing _laudi_ in her honour, and who were
distinguished even in mediæval Florence, where charity was always on a
heroic scale, by their munificence towards the poor. "On July 3rd,
1292," so Giovanni Villani writes, "great and manifest miracles began
to be shown forth in the city of Florence by a figure of Holy Mary
which was painted on a pilaster of the loggia of San Michele in Orto,
where the grain was sold; the sick were healed, the deformed made
straight, and the possessed visibly delivered in great numbers. But
the preaching friars, and the friars minor likewise, through envy or
some other cause, would put no faith in it, whereby they fell into
much infamy with the Florentines. And so greatly grew the fame of
these miracles and merits of Our Lady that folk flocked hither in
pilgrimage from all parts of Tuscany at her feasts, bringing divers
waxen images for the wonders worked, wherewith a great part of the
loggia in front of and around the said figure was filled." In spite of
ecclesiastical scepticism, this popular devotion ever increased; the
company of the Laudesi, amongst whom, says Villani, was a good part of
the best folk in Florence, had their hands always full of offerings
and legacies, which they faithfully distributed to the poor.

The wonderful tidings roused even Guido Cavalcanti from his melancholy
musings among the tombs. As a sceptical philosopher, he had little
faith in miracles, but an _esprit fort_ of the period could not allow
himself to be on the same side as the friars. A delightful _via media_
presented itself; the features of the Madonna in the picture bore a
certain resemblance to his lady, and everything was at once made
clear. So he took up his pen, and wrote a very beautiful sonnet to his
friend, Guido Orlandi. It begins: "A figure of my Lady is adored,
Guido, in San Michele in Orto, which, with her fair semblance, pure
and tender, is the great refuge and harbour of sinners." And after
describing (with evident devotional feeling, in spite of the obvious
suggestion that it is the likeness of his lady that gives the picture
its miraculous powers) the devotion of the people and the wonders
worked on souls and bodies alike, he concludes: "Her fame goeth
through far off lands: but the friars minor say it is idolatry, for
envy that she is not their neighbour." But Orlandi professed himself
much shocked at his friend's levity. "If thou hadst said, my friend,
of Mary," so runs the double sonnet of his answer, "Loving and full of
grace, thou art a red rose planted in the garden; thou wouldst have
written fittingly. For she is the Truth and the Way, she was the
mansion of our Lord, and is the port of our salvation." And he bids
the greater Guido imitate the publican; cast the beam out of his own
eye and let the mote alone in those of the friars: "The friars minor
know the divine Latin scripture, and the good preachers are the
defenders of the faith; their preaching is our medicine."

One of the most terrible faction fights in Florentine history raged
round the loggia and oratory on June 10th, 1304. The Cavalcanti and
their allies were heroically holding their own, here and in Mercato
Vecchio, against the overwhelming forces of the Neri headed by the
Della Tosa, Sinibaldo Donati and Boccaccio Adimari, when Neri Abati
fired the houses round Or San Michele; the wax images in Our Lady's
oratory flared up, the loggia was burned to the ground, and all the
houses along Calimara and Mercato Nuovo and beyond down to the Ponte
Vecchio were utterly destroyed. The young nobles of the Neri faction
galloped about with flaming torches to assail the houses of their
foes; the Podestà with his troops came into Mercato Nuovo, stared at
the blaze, but did nothing but block the way. In this part of the town
was all the richest merchandise of Florence, and the loss was
enormous. The Cavalcanti, against whom the iniquitous plot was
specially aimed, were absolutely ruined, and left the city without
further resistance.

The pilaster with Madonna's picture had survived the fire, and the
_Laudesi_ still met round it to sing her praises. But in 1336 the
Signoria proposed to erect a grand new building on the site of the old
loggia, which should serve at once for corn exchange and provide a
fitting oratory for this new and growing cult of the Madonna di
Orsanmichele. The present edifice, half palace and half church, was
commenced in 1337, and finished at the opening of the fifteenth
century. The actual building was in the hands of the Commune, who
delegated their powers to the Arte di Por Sta. Maria or Arte della
Seta. The Parte Guelfa and the Greater Guilds were to see to the
external decoration of the pilasters, upon each of which tabernacles
were made to receive the images of the Saints before which each of the
Arts should come in state, to make offerings on the feasts of their
proper patrons; while the shrine itself, and the internal decorations
of the loggia (as it was still called), were left in the charge and
care of the _Laudesi_ themselves, the Compagnia of Orsanmichele, which
was thoroughly organised under its special captains. It is uncertain
whom the Arte della Seta employed as architect; Vasari says that
Taddeo Gaddi gave the design, others say Orcagna (who worked for the
Laudesi inside), and more recently Francesco Talenti has been
suggested. Benci di Cione and Simone di Francesco Talenti, who also
worked at the same epoch upon the Duomo, were among the architects
employed later. The closing in of the arcades, for the better
protection of the tabernacle, took away the last remnants of its
original appearance as an open loggia; and, shortly before, the corn
market itself was removed to the present Piazza del Grano, and thus
the "Palatium" became the present church. The extremely beautifully
sculptured windows are the work of Simone di Francesco Talenti.

There are fourteen of these little temples or niches, partly belonging
to the Greater and partly to the Lesser Arts. It will be seen that,
while the seven Greater Arts have each their niche, only six out of
the fourteen Minor Arts are represented. Over the niches are _tondi_
with the insignia of each Art. The statues were set up at different
epochs, and are not always those that originally stood here--altered
in one case from significant political motives, in others from the
desire of the guilds to have something more thoroughly up to date--the
rejected images being made over to the authorities of the Duomo for
their unfinished façade, or sent into exile among the friars of Santa
Croce. In 1404 the Signoria decreed that, within ten years from that
date, the Arts who had secured their pilasters should have their
statues in position, on pain of losing the right. But this does not
seem to have been rigidly enforced.

  [Illustration: WINDOW OF OR SAN MICHELE]

Beginning at the corner of the northern side, facing towards the
Duomo, we have the minor Art of the Butchers represented by
Donatello's St. Peter in marble, an early and not very excellent work
of the master, about 1412 (in a tabernacle of the previous century);
the _tondo_ above containing their arms, a black goat on a gold field,
is modern. Next comes the marble St. Philip, the patron saint of the
minor Art of the Shoemakers, by Nanni di Banco, of 1408, a
beautiful and characteristic work of this too often neglected
sculptor. Then, also by Nanni di Banco, the _Quattro incoronati_, the
"four crowned martyrs," who, being carvers by profession, were put to
death under Diocletian for refusing to make idols, and are the patrons
of the masters in stone and wood, a minor Art which included
sculptors, architects, bricklayers, carpenters, and masons; the
bas-relief under the shrine, also by Nanni, is a priceless masterpiece
of realistic Florentine democratic art, and shows us the mediæval
craftsmen at their work, the every-day life of the men who made
Florence the dream of beauty which she became; above it are the arms
of the Guild, in an ornate and beautiful medallion, by Luca della
Robbia. The following shrine, that of the Art of makers of swords and
armour, had originally Donatello's famous St. George in marble, of
1415, which is now in the Bargello; the present bronze (inappropriate
for a minor Art, according to the precedent of the others) is a modern
copy; the bas-relief below, of St. George slaying the dragon, is still
Donato's. On the western wall, opposite the old tower of the Guild of
Wool, comes first a bronze St. Matthew, made together with its
tabernacle by Ghiberti and Michelozzo for the greater Guild of
Money-changers and Bankers (Arte del Cambio), and finished in 1422.
The Annunciation above is by Niccolò of Arezzo, at the close of the
Trecento. The very beautiful bronze statue of St. Stephen, by
Ghiberti, represents the great Guild of Wool, Arte della Lana;
originally they had a marble St. Stephen, but, seeing what excellent
statues had been made for the Cambio and the Calimala Guilds, they
declared that since the Arte della Lana claimed to be always mistress
of the other Arts, she must excel in this also; so sent their St.
Stephen away to the Cathedral, and assigned the new work to Ghiberti
(1425). Then comes the marble St. Eligius, by Nanni di Banco (1415),
for the minor Art of the Maniscalchi, which included farriers,
iron-smiths, knife-makers, and the like; the bas-relief below, also by
Nanni, represents the Saint (San Lò he is more familiarly called, or
St. Eloy in French) engaged in shoeing a demoniacal horse.

On the southern façade, we have St. Mark in marble for the minor Art
of Linaioli and Rigattieri, flax merchants and hucksters, by
Donatello, (about 1412).[32] The Arte dei Vaiai e Pellicciai,
furriers, although a greater Guild, seems to have been contented with
the rather insignificant marble St. James, which follows, of uncertain
authorship, and dating from the end of the Trecento; the bas-relief
seems later. The next shrine, that of the Doctors and Apothecaries,
the great Guild to which Dante belonged and which included painters
and booksellers, is empty; the Madonna herself is their patroness, but
their statue is now inside the church; the Madonna and Child in the
medallion above are by Luca della Robbia. The next niche is that of
the great Arte della Seta or Arte di Por Santa Maria, the Guild of the
Silk-merchants, to which embroiderers, goldsmiths and silversmiths
were attached; the bronze statue of their patron, St. John the
Evangelist, is by Baccio da Montelupo (1515), and replaces an earlier
marble now in the Bargello; the medallion above with their arms, a
gate on a shield supported by two cherubs, is by Luca della Robbia.

  [32] The eight Arti Minori not represented are the vintners (St.
  Martin), the inn-keepers (St. Julian), the cheesemongers (St.
  Bartholomew), the leather-dressers (St. Augustine), the saddlemakers
  (the Blessed Trinity), the joiners (the Annunciation), tin and
  coppersmiths (St. Zenobius), and the bakers (St. Lawrence).

Finally, on the façade in the Via Calzaioli, the first shrine is that
of the Arte di Calimala or Arte dei Mercatanti, who carried on the
great commerce in foreign cloth, the chief democratic guild of the
latter half of the thirteenth century, but which, together with the
Arte della Lana, began somewhat to decline towards the middle of the
Quattrocento; their bronze St. John Baptist is Ghiberti's, but hardly
one of his better works (1415). The large central tabernacle was
originally assigned to the Parte Guelfa, the only organisation outside
of the Guilds that was allowed to share in this work; for them,
Donatello made a bronze statue of their patron, St. Louis of Toulouse,
and either Donatello himself or Michelozzo prepared, in 1423, the
beautiful niche for him which is still here. But, owing to the great
unpopularity of the Parte Guelfa and their complete loss of authority
under the new Medicean regime, this tabernacle was taken from them in
1459 and made over to the Università dei Mercanti or Magistrato della
Mercanzia, a board of magistrates who presided over all the Guilds;
the arms of this magistracy were set up in the present medallion by
Luca della Robbia in 1462; Donatello's St. Louis was sent to the
friars minor; and, some years later, Verrocchio cast the present
masterly group of Christ and St. Thomas. Landucci, in his diary for
1483, tells us how it was set up, and that the bronze figure of the
Saviour seemed to him the most beautiful that had ever been made. Last
of all, the bronze statue of St. Luke was set up by Giovanni da
Bologna in 1601, for the Judges and Notaries, who, like the
silk-merchants, discarded an earlier marble. It must be observed that
the substitution of the Commercial Tribunal for the tyrannical Parte
Guelfa completes the purely democratic character of the whole
monument.

Entering the interior, we pass from the domains of the great
commercial guilds and their patrons to those of the _Laudesi_ of Santa
Maria. It is rich and subdued in colour, the vaults and pilasters
covered with faded frescoes. It is divided into two parts, the one
ending in the Shrine of the Blessed Virgin, the other in the chapel
and altar of St. Anne, her mother and the deliveress of the Republic.
These two record the two great events of fourteenth century Florentine
history--the expulsion of the Duke of Athens and the Black Death. It
was after this great plague that, in consequence of the Compagnia
having had great riches left to them, "to the honour of the Holy
Virgin Mary and for the benefit of the poor," the Captains of
Orsanmichele, as the heads of these Laudesi were called, summoned
Orcagna, in 1349, to the "work of the pilaster," as it was officially
styled, to enclose what remained of the miraculous picture in a
glorious tabernacle. He took ten years over it, finishing it in 1359,
while the railing by Pietro di Migliore was completed in 1366. It was
approximately at this epoch that it was decided to find another place
for the market, and to close the arcades of the loggia, _per
adornamento e salvezza del tabernacolo di Nostra Donna_.

It is goldsmith's work on a gigantic scale, this marble reliquary of
the archangelic painter. "A miracle of loveliness," wrote Lord
Lindsay, "and though clustered all over with pillars and pinnacles,
inlaid with the richest marbles, lapis-lazuli, and mosaic work, it is
chaste in its luxuriance as an Arctic iceberg--worthy of her who was
spotless among women." The whole is crowned with a statue of St.
Michael, and the miraculous picture is enclosed in an infinite wealth
and profusion of statues and arabesques, angels and prophets, precious
stones and lions' heads. Scenes in bas-relief from Our Lady's life
alternate with prophets and allegorical representations of the
virtues, some of these latter being single figures of great beauty and
some psychological insight in the rendering--for instance, Docilitas,
Solertia, Justitia, Fortitudo--while marble Angels cluster round their
Queen's tabernacle in eager service and loving worship. At the back is
the great scene beneath which, to right and left, the series begins
and ends--the death of Madonna and her Assumption, or rather, Our Lady
of the Girdle, the giving of that celestial gift to the Thomas who had
doubted, the mystical treasure which Tuscan Prato still fondly
believes that her Duomo holds. This is perhaps the first
representation of this mystery in Italian sculpture, and is signed and
dated: _Andreas Cionis pictor Florentinus oratorii archimagister
extitit hujus, 1359._ The figure with a small divided beard, talking
with a man in a big hat and long beard, is Orcagna's own portrait. The
miraculous painting itself is within the tabernacle. The picture in
front, the Madonna and Child with goldfinch, adored by eight Angels,
is believed to be either by Orcagna himself or Bernardo Daddi[33]; it
is decidedly more primitive than their authenticated works, probably
because it is a comparatively close rendering of the original
composition.

  [33] There are three extant documents concerning pictures of the
  Madonna for the Captains of Saint Michael; two refer to a painting
  ordered from Bernardo Daddi, in 1346 and 1347; the third to one by
  Orcagna, 1352. _See_ Signor P. Franceschini's monograph on Or San
  Michele, to which I am much indebted in this chapter.

On the side altar on the right is the venerated Crucifix before which
St. Antoninus used to pray. At one time the Dominicans were wont to
come hither in procession on the anniversary of his death. In his
Chronicle of Florence, Antoninus defends the friars from the
accusations of Villani with respect to their scepticism about the
miraculous picture. On the opposite side altar is the marble statue of
Mother and Child from the tabernacle of the Medici e Speziali. It was
executed about the year 1399; Vasari ascribes it to a Simone di
Firenze, who may possibly be Simone di Francesco Talenti.

The altar of St. Anne at the east end of the left half of the nave is
one of the Republic's thank-offerings for their deliverance from the
tyranny of Walter de Brienne. Public thanksgiving had been held here,
before Our Lady's picture, as early as 1343, while the "Palatium" was
still in building; but in the following year, 1344, at the instance of
the captains of Or San Michele and others, the Signoria decreed that
"for the perpetual memory of the grace conceded by God to the Commune
and People of Florence, on the day of blessed Anne, Mother of the
glorious Virgin, by the liberation of the city and the citizens, and
by the destruction of the pernicious and tyrannical yoke," solemn
offerings should be made on St. Anne's feast day by the Signoria and
the consuls of the Arts, before her statue in Or San Michele, and that
on that day all offices and shops should be closed, and no one be
subject to arrest for debt. The present statue on this votive altar,
representing the Madonna (here perhaps symbolising her faithful city
of Florence) seated on the lap of St. Anne, who is thus protecting her
and her Divine Child, was executed by Francesco da Sangallo in 1526,
and replaces an older group in wood; although highly praised by
Vasari, it will strike most people as not quite worthy of the place or
the occasion. The powerful and expressive head of St. Anne is the best
part of the group.

The beneficent energies of these Laudesi and their captains spread far
beyond the limits of this church and shrine. The great and still
existing company of the Misericordia was originally connected with
them; and the Bigallo for the foundling children was raised by them at
the same time as their Tabernacle here. They contributed generously to
the construction of the Duomo, and decorated chapels in Santa Croce
and the Carmine. Sacchetti and Giovanni Boccaccio were among their
officers; and it was while Boccaccio was serving as one of their
captains in 1350 that they sent a sum of money by his hands to Dante's
daughter Beatrice, in her distant convent at Ravenna. They appear to
have spent all they had in the defence of Florentine liberty during
the great siege of 1529.

The imposing old tower that rises opposite San Michele in the Calimala
is the Torrione of the Arte della Lana, copiously adorned with their
arms--the Lamb bearing the Baptist's cross. It was erected at the end
of the thirteenth or beginning of the fourteenth century, and in it
the consuls of the Guild had their meetings. It was stormed and sacked
by the Ciompi in 1378. The heavy arch that connects the tower with the
upper storey of Or San Michele, and rather disfigures the building, is
the work of Buontalenti in the latter half of the sixteenth century.
The large vaulted hall into which it leads, intended originally for
the storage of grain and the like, is now known as the Sala di Dante,
and witnesses the brilliant gatherings of Florentines and foreigners
to listen to the readings of the _Divina Commedia_ given under the
auspices of the _Società Dantesca Italiana_.

This is the part of the city where the Arts had their wealth and
strength; the very names of the streets show it; Calimala and
Pellicceria, for instance, which run from the Mercato Vecchio to the
Via Porta Rossa. The Mercato Vecchio, the centre of the city both in
Roman and mediæval times, around which the houses and towers of the
oldest families clustered--Elisei, Caponsacchi, Nerli, Vecchietti, and
the rest of whom Dante's _Paradiso_ tells--is now a painfully
unsightly modern square, with what appears to be a triumphal arch
bearing the inscription: _L'antico centro della città da secolare
squallore a vita nuova restituita_(!). Passing down the Calimala to
the Via Porta Rossa and the Mercato Nuovo, near where the former
enters the Via Calzaioli, the site is still indicated of the Calimala
Bottega where the government of the Arts was first organised, as told
in chapter i. Near here and in the Mercato Nuovo, the Cavalcanti had
their palaces. In the Via Porta Rossa the Arte della Seta had their
warehouses; the gate from which they took their second name, and which
is represented on their shield, is of course the Por Santa Maria, Our
Lady's Gate of the old walls or Cerchia Antica, which was somewhere
about the middle of the present Via Por Santa Maria. The Church of
Santa Maria sopra la Porta, between the Mercato Nuovo and the Via
delle Terme, is the present San Biagio (now used by the firemen);
adjoining it is the fine old palace of the dreaded captains of the
Parte Guelfa. The Via Porta Rossa contains some mediæval houses and
the lower portions of a few grand old towers still standing; as
already said, in the first circle of walls there was a postern gate,
at the end of the present street, opposite Santa Trinità. In the
Mercato Nuovo, where a copy of the ancient boar--which figures in Hans
Andersen's familiar story--seems to watch the flower market, the
arcades were built by Battista del Tasso for Cosimo I. Here, too,
modernisation has destroyed much. Hardly can we conjure up now that
day of the great fire in 1304, when the nobles of the "black" faction
galloped through the crowd of plunderers, with their blazing torches
throwing a lurid glow on the steel-clad Podestà with his soldiers
drawn up here idly to gaze upon the flames! A house that once belonged
to the Cavalcanti is still standing in Mercato Nuovo, marked by the
Cross of the People; the branch of the family who lived here left the
magnates and joined the people, as the Cross indicates, changing their
name from Cavalcanti to Cavallereschi.

  [Illustration: TOWER OF THE ARTE DELLA LANA]

The little fourteenth century church of St. Michael, now called San
Carlo, which stands opposite San Michele in Orto on the other side of
the Via Calzaioli, was originally a votive chapel to Saint Anne, built
at the expense of the captains of the Laudesi on a site purchased by
the Commune. It was begun in 1349 by Fioraventi and Benci di Cione,
simultaneously with Orcagna's tabernacle, continued by Simone di
Francesco Talenti, and completed at the opening of the fifteenth
century. The captains intended to have the ceremonial offerings made
here instead of in the Loggia; but the thing fell through owing to a
disagreement with the Arte di Por Santa Maria, and the votive altar
remained in the Loggia.

Between San Carlo and the Duomo the street has been completely
modernised. Of old it was the Corso degli Adimari, surrounded by the
houses and towers of this fierce Guelf clan, who were at deadly feud
with the Donati. Cacciaguida in the _Paradiso_ (canto xvi.) describes
them as "the outrageous tribe that playeth dragon after whoso fleeth,
and to whoso showeth tooth--or purse--is quiet as a lamb." One of
their towers still stands on the left. On the right the place is
marked where the famous loggia, called the Neghittosa, once stood,
which belonged to the branch of the Adimari called the Cavicciuli,
who, in spite of their hatred to the Donati, joined the Black Guelfs.
One of them, Boccaccio or Boccaccino Adimari, seized upon Dante's
goods when he was exiled, and exerted his influence to prevent his
being recalled. In this loggia, too, Filippo Argenti used to sit, the
_Fiorentino spirito bizzarro_ whom Dante saw rise before him covered
with mire out of the marshy lake of Styx. He is supposed to have
ridden a horse shod with silver, and there is a rare story in the
_Decameron_ of a mad outburst of bestial fury on his part in this very
loggia, on account of a mild practical joke on the part of Ciacco, a
bon vivant of the period whom Dante has sternly flung into the hell of
gluttons. On this occasion Filippo, who was an enormously big, strong,
and sinewy man, beat a poor little dandy called Biondello within an
inch of his life. In this same loggia, on August 4th, 1397, a party of
young Florentine exiles, who had come secretly from Bologna with the
intention of killing Maso degli Albizzi, took refuge, after a vain
attempt to call the people to arms. From the highest part of the
loggia, seeing a great crowd assembling round them, they harangued the
mob, imploring them not stupidly to wait to see their would-be
deliverers killed and themselves thrust back into still more grievous
servitude. When not a soul moved, "finding out too late how dangerous
it is to wish to set free a people that desires, happen what may, to
be enslaved," as Machiavelli cynically puts it, they escaped into the
Duomo, where, after a vain attempt at defending themselves, they were
captured by the Captain, put to the question and executed. There were
about ten of them in all, including three of the Cavicciuli and
Antonio dei Medici.

On November 9th, 1494, when the Florentines rose against Piero dei
Medici and his brothers, the young Cardinal Giovanni rode down this
street with retainers and a few citizens shouting, _Popolo e libertà_,
pretending that he was going to join the insurgents. But when he got
to San Michele in Orto, the people turned upon him from the piazza
with their pikes and lances, with loud shouts of "Traitor!" upon which
he fled back in great dread. Landucci saw him at the windows of his
palace, on his knees with clasped hand, commending himself to God.
"When I saw him," he says, "I grew very sorry for him (_m'inteneri
assai_); and I judged that he was a good and sensible youth."

To the east of the Via Calzaioli lies the Sesto di San Piero Maggiore,
which, at the end of the thirteenth century, received the pleasant
name of the Sesto di Scandali. It lies on either side of the Via del
Corso, which with its continuations ran from east to west through the
old city. In the Via della Condotta, at the corner of the Vicolo dei
Cerchi, still stands the palace which belonged to a section of this
family (the section known as the White Cerchi to distinguish them from
Messer Vieri's branch, the Black Cerchi, who were even more "white" in
politics, in spite of their name); in this palace the Priors sat
before Arnolfo built the Palazzo Vecchio, which became the seat of
government in 1299. It was there, not here, that Dante and his
colleagues, on June 15th, 1300, entered upon office, and the same day
confirmed the sentences which had been passed under their predecessors
against the three traitors who had conspired to betray Florence to
Pope Boniface; and then, a few days later, passed the decree by which
Corso Donati and Guido Cavalcanti were sent into exile. Later the
vicars of Robert of Anjou for a time resided here, and the
administrators appointed to assess the confiscated goods of "rebels."
At the corner of the Via dei Cerchi, where it joins the Via dei
Cimatori, are traces of the loggia of the Cerchi; the same corner
affords a picturesque glimpse of the belfrey of the Badia and the
tower of the Podesta's palace.

There was another great palace of the Cerchi, referred to in the
_Paradiso_, which had formerly belonged to the Ravignani and the Conti
Guidi, the acquisition of which by Messer Vieri had excited the envy
of the Donati. This palace is described by Dante (_Parad._ xvi.) as
being _sopra la porta_, that is, over the inner gate of St. Peter, the
gate of the first circuit in Cacciaguida's day. No trace of it
remains, but it was apparently on the north side of the Corso where it
now joins the Via del Proconsolo. "Over the gate," says Cacciaguida,
"which is now laden with new felony of such weight that there will
soon be a wrecking of the ship, were the Ravignani, whence is
descended the Count Guido, and whoever has since taken the name of the
noble Bellincione." Here the daughter of Bellincione Berti, the _alto
Bellincion_, lived,--the beautiful and good Gualdrada, whom we can
dimly discern as a sweet and gracious presence in that far-off early
Florence of which the _Paradiso_ sings; she was the ancestress of the
great lords of the Casentino, the Conti Guidi. The principal houses of
the Donati appear to have been on the Duomo side of the Corso, just
before the Via dello Studio now joins it; but they had possessions on
the other side as well. Giano della Bella had his house almost
opposite to them, on the southern side. A little further on, at the
corner where the Corso joins the Via del Proconsolo, Folco Portinari
lived, the father, according to tradition, of Dante's Beatrice: "he
who had been the father of so great a marvel, as this most noble
Beatrice was manifestly seen to be." Folco's sons joined the Bianchi;
one of them, Pigello, was poisoned during Dante's priorate; an elder
son, Manetto Portinari (the friend of Dante and Cavalcanti),
afterwards ratted and made his peace with the Neri. All the family are
included, together with the Giuochi who lived opposite to them, in a
sentence passed against Dante and his sons in 1315, from which Manetto
Portinari is excepted by name. The building which now occupies the
site of the Casa Portinari was once the Salviati Palace.

  [Illustration: HOUSE OF DANTE]

In the little Piazza di San Martino is shown the Casa di Dante, which
undoubtedly belonged to the Alighieri, and in which Dante is said to
have been born. It has been completely modernised. The Alighieri had
also a house in the Via Santa Margherita, which runs from the Piazza
San Martino to the Corso, opposite the little church of Santa
Margherita. Hard by, in the Piazza dei Donati a section of that family
had a house and garden; and here Dante saw and wooed Gemma, the
daughter of Manetto Donati. The old tower which seems to watch over
Dante's house from the other side of the Piazza San Martino, the
Torre della Castagna, belonged in Dante's days to the monks of the
Badia; in it, in 1282, the Priors of the Arts held their first
meeting, when the government of the Republic was placed in their
hands. At the corner of the Piazza, opposite Dante's house, lived the
Sacchetti, the family from which the novelist, Franco, sprang. They
were in deadly feud with Geri del Bello, the cousin of Dante's father,
who lived in the house next to Dante's; and, shortly before the year
of Dante's vision, the Sacchetti murdered Geri. He seems to have
deserved his fate, and Dante places him among the sowers of discord in
Hell, where he points at Dante and threatens him vehemently. "His
violent death," says the poet in _Inferno_ xxix, "which is not yet
avenged for him, by any that is a partner of his shame, made him
indignant; therefore, as I suppose, he went away without speaking to
me; and in that he has made me pity him the more." Thirty years after
the murder, Geri's nephews broke into the house of the Sacchetti and
stabbed one of the family to death; and the two families were finally
reconciled in 1342, on which occasion Dante's half-brother, Francesco
Alighieri, was the representative of the Alighieri. Many years later,
Dante's great-grandson, Leonardo Alighieri, came from Verona to
Florence. "He paid me a visit," writes Leonardo Bruni, "as a friend of
the memory of his great-grandfather, Dante. And I showed him Dante's
house, and that of his forebears, and I pointed out to him many
particulars with which he was not acquainted, because he and his
family had been estranged from their fatherland. And so does Fortune
roll this world around, and change its inhabitants up and down as she
turns her wheel."

Beyond the Via del Proconsolo the Borgo, now called of the Albizzi,
was originally the Borgo di San Piero--a suburb of the old city, but
included in the second walls of the twelfth century. The present name
records the brief, but not inglorious period of the rule of the
oligarchy or Ottimati, before Cosimo dei Medici obtained complete
possession of the State. It was formerly called the Corso di Por San
Piero. The first palace on the right (De Rast or Quaratesi) was built
for the Pazzi by Brunelleschi, and still shows their armorial bearings
by Donatello. They had another palace further on, on the left,
opposite the Via dell'Acqua. Still further on (past the Altoviti
palace, with its caricatures) is the palace of the Albizzi family, on
the left, as you approach the Piazza. Here Maso degli Albizzi, and
then Rinaldo, lived and practically ruled the state. Giuliano dei
Medici alighted here in 1512. At the end of the Borgo degli Albizzi is
now the busy, rather picturesque little Piazza di San Piero Maggiore,
usually full of stalls and trucks. St. Peter's Gate in Dante's time
lay just beyond the church, to the left. In this Piazza also the
Donati had houses; and it was through this gate that Corso Donati
burst into Florence with his followers on the morning of November 5th,
1301; "and he entered into the city like a daring and bold cavalier,"
as Dino Compagni--who loves a strong personality even on the opposite
side to his own--puts it. The Bianchi in the Sesto largely outnumbered
his forces, but did not venture to attack him, while the populace
bawled _Viva il Barone_ to their hearts' content. He incontinently
seized that tall tower of the Corbizzi that still rises opposite to
the façade of the church, at the southern corner of the Piazza in the
Via del Mercatino, and hung out his banner from it. Seven years later
he made his last stand in this square and round this tower, as we have
told in chapter ii. Of the church of San Piero Maggiore, only the
seventeenth century façade remains; but of old it ranked as the third
of the Florentine temples. According to the legend, it was on his way
to this church that San Zenobio raised the French child to life in the
Borgo degli Albizzi, opposite the spot where the Palazzo Altoviti now
stands. It is said to have been the only church in Florence free from
the taint of simony in the days of St. Giovanni Gualberto, and of old
had the privilege of first receiving the new Archbishops when they
entered Florence. The Archbishop went through a curious and beautiful
ceremony of mystic marriage with the Abbess of the Benedictine convent
attached to the church, who apparently personified the diocese of
Florence. Every year on Easter Monday the canons of the Duomo came
here in procession; and on St. Peter's day the captains of the Parte
Guelfa entered the Piazza in state to make a solemn offering, and had
a race run in the Piazza Santa Croce after the ceremony. The artists,
Lorenzo di Credi, Mariotto Albertinelli, Piero di Cosimo and Luca
della Robbia were buried here. Two of the best pictures that the
church contained--a Coronation of the Madonna ascribed to Orcagna and
the famous Assumption said by Vasari to have been painted by
Botticelli for Matteo Palmieri (which was supposed to inculcate
heretical neoplatonic doctrines concerning the human soul and the
Angels in the spheres), are now in the National Gallery of London.

It was in this Piazza that the conspirators resolved to assassinate
Maso degli Albizzi. Their spies watched him leave his palace, walk
leisurely towards the church and then enter an apothecary's shop,
close to San Piero. They hurried off to tell their associates, but
when the would-be assassins arrived on the scene, they found that
Maso had given them the slip and left the shop.

Turning down the Via del Mercatino and back to the Badia along the Via
Pandolfini, we pass the palace which once belonged to Francesco
Valori, Savonarola's formidable adherent. Here it was on that terrible
Palm Sunday, 1498, when Hell broke loose, as Landucci puts it, that
Valori's wife was shot dead at a window, while her husband in the
street below, on his way to answer the summons of the Signoria, was
murdered near San Procolo by the kinsmen of the men whom he had sent
to the scaffold.

The Badia shares with the Baptistery and San Miniato the distinction
of being the only Florentine churches mentioned by Dante. In
Cacciaguida's days it was close to the old Roman wall; from its
campanile even in Dante's time, Florence still "took tierce and nones
"; and, at the sound of its bells, the craftsmen of the Arts went to
and from their work. Originally founded by the Countess Willa in the
tenth century, the Badia di San Stefano (as it was called) that Dante
and Boccaccio knew was the work of Arnolfo di Cambio; but it was
entirely rebuilt in the seventeenth century, with consequent
destruction of priceless frescoes by Giotto and Masaccio. The present
graceful campanile is of the fourteenth century. The relief in the
lunette over the chief door, rather in the manner of Andrea della
Robbia, is by Benedetto Buglione. In the left transept is the monument
by Mino da Fiesole of Willa's son Hugo, Margrave of Tuscany, who died
on St. Thomas' day, 1006. Dante calls him the great baron; his
anniversary was solemnly celebrated here, and he was supposed to have
conferred knighthood and nobility upon the Della Bella and other
Florentine families. "Each one," says Cacciaguida, "who beareth aught
of the fair arms of the great baron, whose name and worth the festival
of Thomas keepeth living, from him derived knighthood and privilege"
(_Paradiso_ xvi.). In a chapel to the left of this monument is
Filippino Lippi's picture of the Madonna appearing to St. Bernard,
painted in 1480, one of the most beautiful renderings of an
exceedingly poetical subject. For Dante, Bernard is _colui
ch'abbelliva di Maria, come del sole stella mattutina_, "he who drew
light from Mary, as the morning star from the sun." Filippino has
introduced the portrait of the donor, on the right, Francesco di
Pugliese. The church contains two other works by Mino da Fiesole, a
Madonna and (in the right transept) the sepulchral monument of
Bernardo Giugni, who served the State as ambassador to Milan and
Venice in the days of Cosimo and Piero dei Medici. At the entrance to
the cloisters Francesco Valori is buried.

It was in the Badia (and not in the Church of San Stefano, near the
Via Por Santa Maria, as usually stated) that Boccaccio lectured upon
the _Divina Commedia_ in 1373. Benvenuto da Imola came over from
Bologna to attend his beloved master's readings, and was much edified.
But the audience were not equally pleased, and Boccaccio had to defend
himself in verse. One of the sonnets he wrote on this occasion, _Se
Dante piange, dove ch'el si sia_, has been admirably translated by
Dante Rossetti:--

     If Dante mourns, there wheresoe'er he be,
       That such high fancies of a soul so proud
       Should be laid open to the vulgar crowd,
       (As, touching my Discourse, I'm told by thee),

     This were my grievous pain; and certainly
       My proper blame should not be disavow'd;
       Though hereof somewhat, I declare aloud
       Were due to others, not alone to me.

     False hopes, true poverty, and therewithal
       The blinded judgment of a host of friends,
       And their entreaties, made that I did thus.

     But of all this there is no gain at all
       Unto the thankless souls with whose base ends
       Nothing agrees that's great or generous.

  [Illustration: ARMS OF THE SESTO DI SAN PIERO]




CHAPTER VII

_From the Bargello past Santa Croce_

     "Non ha l'ottimo artista alcun concetto,
     ch'un marmo solo in sé non circonscriva
     col suo soverchio; e solo a quello arriva
     la man che ubbidisce all'intelletto."
         --_Michelangelo Buonarroti._


Even as the Palazzo Vecchio or Palace of the Priors is essentially the
monument of the _Secondo Popolo_, so the Palazzo del Podestà or Palace
of the Commune belongs to the _Primo Popolo_; it was commenced in
1255, in that first great triumph of the democracy, although mainly
finished towards the middle of the following century. Here sat the
Podestà, with his assessors and retainers, whom he brought with him to
Florence--himself always an alien noble. Originally he was the chief
officer of the Republic, for the six months during which he held
office, led the burgher forces in war, and acted as chief justice in
peace; but he gradually sunk in popular estimation before the more
democratic Captain of the People (who was himself, it will be
remembered, normally an alien Guelf noble). A little later, both
Podestà and Captain were eclipsed by the Gonfaloniere of Justice. In
the fifteenth century the Podestà was still the president of the chief
civil and criminal court of the city, and his office was only finally
abolished during the Gonfalonierate of Piero Soderini at the
beginning of the Cinquecento. Under the Medicean grand dukes the
Bargello, or chief of police, resided here--hence the present name of
the palace; and it is well to repeat, once for all, that when the
Bargello, or Court of the Bargello, is mentioned in Florentine
history--in grim tales of torture and executions and the like--it is
not this building, but the residence of the Executore of Justice, now
incorporated into the Palazzo Vecchio, that is usually meant.

It was in this Palace of the Podestà, however, that Guido Novello
resided and ruled the city in the name of King Manfred, during the
short period of Ghibelline tyranny that followed Montaperti,
1260-1266, and which the Via Ghibellina, first opened by him, recalls.
The Palace was broken into by the populace in 1295, just before the
fall of Giano della Bella, because a Lombard Podestà had unjustly
acquitted Corso Donati for the death of a burgher at the hands of his
riotous retainers. Here, too, was Cante dei Gabbrielli of Gubbio
installed by Charles of Valois, in November 1301, and from its gates
issued the Crier of the Republic that summoned Dante Alighieri and his
companions in misfortune to appear before the Podestà's court. In one
of those dark vaulted rooms on the ground floor, now full of a choice
collection of mediæval arms and armour, Cante's successor, Fulcieri da
Calvoli, tortured those of the Bianchi who fell into his cruel hands.
"He sells their flesh while it is still alive," says Dante in the
_Purgatorio_, "then slayeth them like a worn out brute: many doth he
deprive of life, and himself of honour." Some died under the torments,
others were beheaded.

"Messer Donato Alberti," writes Dino Compagni, "mounted vilely upon an
ass, in a peasant's smock, was brought before the Podestà. And when he
saw him, he asked him: 'Are you Messer Donato Alberti?' He replied:
'I am Donato. Would that Andrea da Cerreto were here before us, and
Niccola Acciaioli, and Baldo d'Aguglione, and Jacopo da Certaldo, who
have destroyed Florence.'[34] Then he was fastened to the rope and the
cord adjusted to the pulley, and so they let him stay; and the windows
and doors of the Palace were opened, and many citizens called in under
other pretexts, that they might see him tortured and derided."

  [34] These were the burghers and lawyers of the black faction, the
  Podestà's allies and friends. This was in the spring of 1303.

In the rising of the Ciompi, July 1378, the palace was forced to
surrender to the insurgents after an assault of two hours. They let
the Podestà escape, but burnt all books and papers, especially those
of the hated Arte della Lana. At night as many as the palace could
hold quartered themselves here.

  [Illustration: BARGELLO COURTYARD AND STAIRCASE]

The beautiful court and stairway, surrounded by statues and armorial
bearings, the ascent guarded by the symbolical lion of Florence and
leading to an open loggia, is the work of Benci di Cione and Neri di
Fioraventi, 1333-1345. The palace is now the National Museum of
Sculpture and kindred arts and crafts. Keeping to the left, round the
court itself, we see a marble St. Luke by Niccolò di Piero Lamberti,
of the end of the fourteenth century, from the niche of the Judges and
Notaries at Or San Michele; a magnificent sixteenth century
portalantern in beaten iron; the old marble St. John Evangelist,
contemporaneous with the St. Luke, and probably by Piero di Giovanni
Tedesco, from the niche of the Arte della Seta at Or San Michele; some
allegorical statues by Giovanni da Bologna and Vincenzo Danti, in
rather unsuccessful imitation of Michelangelo; a dying Adonis,
questionably ascribed to Michelangelo. And, finally (numbered 18),
there stands Michelangelo's so-called "Victory," the triumph of the
ideal over outworn tyranny and superstition; a radiant youth, but worn
and exhausted by the struggle, rising triumphantly over a shape of
gigantic eld, so roughly hewn as to seem lost in the mist from which
the young hero has gloriously freed himself.[35]

  [35] Such, at least, seems the more obvious interpretation; but there
  is a certain sensuality and cruelty about the victor's expression,
  which, together with the fact that the vanquished undoubtedly has
  something of Michelangelo's own features, lead us to suspect that the
  master's sympathies were with the lost cause.

Also on the ground floor, to the left, are two rooms full of statuary.
The first contains nothing important, save perhaps the Madonna and
Child with St. Peter and St. Paul, formerly above the Porta Romana. In
the second room, a series of bas-reliefs by Benedetto da Rovezzano,
begun in 1511 and terribly mutilated by the imperial soldiery during
the siege, represent scenes connected with the life and miracles of
St. Giovanni Gualberto, including the famous trial of Peter Igneus,
who, in order to convict the Bishop of Florence of simony, passed
unharmed through the ordeal of fire. Here is the unfinished bust of
Brutus (111) by Michelangelo, one of his latest works, and a
significant expression of the state of the man's heart, when he was
forced to rear sumptuous monuments for the new tyrants who had
overthrown his beloved Republic. Then a chimney-piece by Benedetto da
Rovezzano from the Casa Borgherini, one of the most sumptuous pieces
of domestic furniture of the Renaissance; a very beautiful tondo of
the Madonna and Child with the little St. John (123) by Michelangelo,
made for Bartolommeo Pitti early in the Cinquecento; the mask of a
grinning faun with gap-teeth, traditionally shown as the head struck
out by the boy Michelangelo in his first visit to the Medici Gardens,
when he attracted the attention of Lorenzo the Magnificent--but
probably a comparatively modern work suggested by Vasari's story; a
sketch in marble for the martyrdom of St. Andrew, supposed to be a
juvenile work of Michelangelo's, but also doubtful. Here too is
Michelangelo's drunken Bacchus (128), an exquisitely-modelled
intoxicated vine-crowned youth, behind whom a sly little satyr lurks,
nibbling grapes. It is one of the master's earliest works, very
carefully and delicately finished, executed during his first visit to
Rome, for Messer Jacopo Galli, probably about 1497. Of this statue
Ruskin wrote, while it was still in the Uffizi: "The white lassitude
of joyous limbs, panther-like, yet passive, fainting with their own
delight, that gleam among the Pagan formalisms of the Uffizi, far
away, separating themselves in their lustrous lightness as the waves
of an Alpine torrent do by their dancing from the dead stones, though
the stones be as white as they." Shelley, on the contrary, found it
"most revolting," "the idea of the deity of Bacchus in the conception
of a Catholic." Near it is a tondo of the Virgin and Child with the
Baptist, by Andrea Ferrucci.

At the top of the picturesque and richly ornamented staircase, to the
right of the loggia on the first floor, opens a great vaulted hall,
where the works of Donatello, casts and originals, surround a cast of
his great equestrian monument to Gattamelata at Padua--a hall of such
noble proportions that even Gattamelata looks insignificant, where he
sits his war-horse between the Cross of the People and the Lily of the
Commune. Here the general council of the Commune met--the only council
(besides the special council of the Podestà) in which the magnates
could sit and vote, and it was here, on July 6th, 1295, that Dante
Alighieri first entered public life; he spoke in support of the
modifications of the Ordinances of Justice--which may have very
probably been a few months before he definitely associated himself
with the People by matriculating in the Arte dei Medici e Speziali.
Among the casts and copies that fill this room, there are several
original and splendid works of Donatello; the Marzocco, or symbolical
lion of Florence protecting the shield of the Commune, which was
formerly in front of the Palace of the Priors; the bronze David, full
of Donatello's delight in the exuberance of youthful manhood just
budding; the San Giovannino or little St. John; the marble David,
inferior to the bronze, but heralding Michelangelo; the bronze bust of
a youth, called the son of Gattamelata; Love trampling upon a snake
(bronze); St. George in marble from Or San Michele, an idealised
condottiere of the Quattrocento; St. John the Baptist from the
Baptistery; and a bronze relief of the Crucifixion. The coloured bust
is now believed by many critics to be neither the portrait of Niccolò
da Uzzano nor by Donatello; it is possibly a Roman hero by some
sculptor of the Seicento.

The next room is the audience chamber of the Podestà. Besides the
Cross and the Lilies on the windows, its walls and roof are covered
with the gold lion on azure ground, the arms of the Duke of Athens.
They were cancelled by decree of the Republic in 1343, and renewed in
1861; as a patriotically worded tablet on the left, under the window,
explains. Opening out of this is the famous Chapel of the
Podestà--famous for the frescoes on its walls--once a prison. From out
of these terribly ruined frescoes stands the figure of Dante (stands
out, alas, because completely repainted--a mere _rifacimento_ with
hardly a trace of the original work left) in what was once a
_Paradiso_; the dim figures on either side are said to represent
Brunette Latini and either Corso Donati or Guido Cavalcanti. In spite
of a very pleasant fable, it is absolutely certain that this is not a
contemporaneous portrait of Dante (although it may be regarded as an
authentic likeness, to some extent) and was not painted by Giotto; the
frescoes were executed by some later follower of Giotto (possibly by
Taddeo Gaddi, who painted the lost portraits of Dante and Guido in
Santa Croce) after 1345. The two paintings below on either side,
Madonna and Child and St. Jerome, are votive pictures commissioned by
pious Podestàs in 1490 and 1491, the former by Sebastiano Mainardi,
the brother-in-law of Domenico Ghirlandaio.

The third room contains small bronze works by Tuscan masters of the
Quattrocento. In the centre, Verrocchio's David (22), cast for Lorenzo
dei Medici, one of the masterpieces of the fifteenth century. Here are
the famous trial plates for the great competition for the second
bronze gates of the Baptistery, announced in 1401, the Sacrifice of
Abraham, by Brunelleschi and Ghiberti respectively; the grace and
harmony of Ghiberti's composition (12) contrast strongly with the
force, almost violence, the dramatic action and movement of
Brunelleschi's (13). Ghiberti's, unlike his rival's, is in one single
piece; but, until lately, there has been a tendency to underrate the
excellence of Brunelleschi's relief. Here, too, are Ghiberti's
reliquary of St. Hyacinth, executed in 1428, with two beautiful
floating Angels (21); several bas-reliefs by Bertoldo, Donatello's
pupil and successor; the effigy of Marino Soccino, a lawyer of Siena,
by the Sienese sculptor Il Vecchietta (16); and, in a glass case,
Orpheus by Bertoldo, Hercules and Antæus by Antonio Pollaiuolo, and
Love on a Scallop Shell by Donatello. The following room contains
mostly bronzes by later masters, especially Cellini, Giovanni da
Bologna, Vincenzo Danti. The most noteworthy of its contents are
Daniele Ricciarelli's striking bust of Michelangelo (37); Cellini's
bronze sketch for Perseus (38), his bronze bust of Duke Cosimo I.
(39), his wax model for Perseus (40), the liberation of Andromeda,
from the pedestal of the statue in the Loggia dei Lanzi (42); and
above all, Giovanni da Bologna's flying Mercury (82), showing what
exceedingly beautiful mythological work could still be produced when
the golden days of the Renaissance were over. It was cast in 1565,
and, like many of the best bronzes of this epoch, was originally
placed on a fountain in one of the Medicean villas.

On the second floor, first a long room with seals, etc., guarded by
Rosso's frescoed Justice. Here, and in the room on the left, is a most
wonderful array of the works in enamelled terra cotta of the Della
Robbias--Luca and Andrea, followed by Giovanni and their imitators. In
the best work of Luca and Andrea--and there is much of their very best
and most perfect work in these two rooms--religious devotion received
its highest and most perfect expression in sculpture. Their Madonnas,
Annunciations, Nativities and the like, are the sculptural counterpart
to Angelico's divinest paintings, though never quite attaining to his
spiritual insight and supra-sensible gaze upon life. Andrea's work is
more pictorial in treatment than Luca's, has less vigour and even at
times a perceptible trace of sentimentality; but in sheer beauty his
very best creations do not yield to those of his great master and
uncle. Both Luca and Andrea kept to the simple blue and white--in the
best part of their work--and surrounded their Madonnas with exquisite
festoons of fruit and leaves: "wrought them," in Pater's words, "into
all sorts of marvellous frames and garlands, giving them their natural
colours, only subdued a little, a little paler than nature."

To the right of the first Della Robbia room, are two more rooms full
of statuary, and one with a collection of medals, including that
commemorating Savonarola's Vision of the Sword of the Lord. In the
first room--taking merely the more important--we may see Music,
wrongly ascribed to Orcagna, probably earlier (139); bust of Charles
VIII. of France (164), author uncertain; bust in terra cotta of a
young warrior, by Antonio Pollaiuolo (161), as grandly insolent and
confident as any of Signorelli's savage youths in the Orvieto
frescoes. Also, bust of Matteo Palmieri, the humanist and suspected
heretic, by Antonio Rossellino (160); bust of Pietro Mellini by
Benedetto da Maiano (153); portrait of a young lady, by Matteo
Civitali of Lucca (142); a long relief (146) ascribed to Verrocchio
and representing the death of a lady of the Tornabuoni family in
child-birth, which Shelley greatly admired and described at length,
under the impression that he was studying a genuine antique: "It is
altogether an admirable piece," he says, "quite in the spirit of
Terence." The uncompromising realism of the male portraiture of the
fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries is fully illustrated in this
room, and there is at the same time a peculiar tenderness and
winsomeness in representing young girls, which is exceedingly
attractive.

In the next room there are many excellent portraits of this kind,
named and unnamed. Of more important works, we should notice the San
Giovannino by Antonio Rossellino, and a tondo by the same master
representing the Adoration of the Shepherds; Andrea Verrocchio's
Madonna and Child; Verrocchio's Lady with the Bouquet (181), with
those exquisite hands of which Gabriele D'Annunzio has almost wearied
the readers of his _Gioconda_; by Matteo Civitali of Lucca, Faith
gazing ecstatically upon the Sacrament. By Mino da Fiesole are a
Madonna and Child, and several portrait busts--of the elder Piero dei
Medici (234) and his brother Giovanni di Cosimo (236), and of Rinaldo
della Luna. We should also notice the statues of Christ and three
Apostles, of the school of Andrea Pisano; portrait of a girl by
Desiderio da Settignano; two bas-reliefs by Luca della Robbia,
representing the Liberation and Crucifixion of St. Peter, early works
executed for a chapel in the Duomo; two sixteenth century busts,
representing the younger Giuliano dei Medici and Giovanni delle Bande
Nere; and, also, a curious fourteenth century group (222) apparently
representing the coronation of an emperor by the Pope's legate.

In the centre of the room are St. John Baptist by Benedetto da Maiano;
Bacchus, by Jacopo Sansovino; and Michelangelo's second David (224),
frequently miscalled Apollo, made for Baccio Valori after the siege of
Florence, and pathetically different from the gigantic David of his
youth, which had been chiselled more than a quarter of a century
before, in all the passing glory of the Republican restoration.

       *       *       *       *       *

When the Duke of Athens made himself tyrant of Florence, King Robert
urged him to take up his abode in this palace, as Charles of Calabria
had done, and leave the Palace of the People to the Priors. The advice
was not taken, and, when the rising broke out, the palace was easily
captured, before the Duke and his adherents in the Palazzo Vecchio
were forced to surrender. Passing along the Via Ghibellina, we
presently come on the right to what was originally the _Stinche_, a
prison for nobles, _in qua carcerentur et custodiantur magnates_, so
called from a castle of the Cavalcanti captured by the Neri in 1304,
from which the prisoners were imprisoned here: it is now a part of the
Teatro Pagliano. Later it became the place of captivity of the lowest
criminals, and a first point of attack in risings of the populace. It
contains, in a lunette on the stairs, a contemporary fresco
representing the expulsion of the Duke of Athens on St. Anne's Day,
1343. St. Anne is giving the banners of the People and of the Commune
to a group of stern Republican warriors, while with one hand she
indicates the Palace of the Priors, fortified with the tyrant's towers
and battlements. By its side rises a great throne, from which the Duke
is shrinking in terror from the Angel of the wrath of God; a broken
sword lies at his feet; the banner of Brienne lies dishonoured in the
dust, with the scales of justice that he profaned and the book of the
law that he outraged. In so solemn and chastened a spirit could the
artists of the Trecento conceive of their Republic's deliverance. The
fresco was probably painted by either Giottino or Maso di Banco; it
was once wrongly ascribed to Cennino Cennini, who wrote the _Treatise
on Painting_, which was the approved text-book in the studios and
workshops of the earlier masters.

Further down the Via Ghibellina is the Casa Buonarroti, which once
belonged to Michelangelo, and was bequeathed by his family to the
city. It is entirely got up as a museum now, and not in the least
suggestive of the great artist's life, though a tiny little study and
a few letters and other relics are shown. There are, however, a
certain number of his drawings here, including a design for the façade
of San Lorenzo, which is of very questionable authenticity, and a
Madonna. Two of his earliest works in marble are preserved here,
executed at that epoch of his youth when he frequented the house and
garden of Lorenzo the Magnificent. One is a bas-relief of the Madonna
and Child--somewhat in the manner of Donatello--with two Angels at the
top of a ladder. The other is a struggle of the Centaurs and Lapithae,
a subject suggested to the boy by Angelo Poliziano, full of motion and
vigour and wonderfully modelled. Vasari says, "To whoso considers this
work, it does not seem from the hand of a youth, but from that of an
accomplished and past master in these studies, and experienced in the
art." The former is in the fifth room, the latter in the antechamber.
There are also two models for the great David; a bust of the master in
bronze by Ricciarelli, and his portrait by his pupil, Marcello
Venusti. A predella representing the legend of St. Nicholas is by
Francesco Pesellino, whose works are rare. In the third room (among
the later allegories and scenes from the master's life) is a large
picture supposed to have been painted by Jacopo da Empoli from a
cartoon by Michelangelo, representing the Holy Family with the four
Evangelists; it is a peculiarly unattractive work. The cartoon,
ascribed to Michelangelo, is in the British Museum; and I would
suggest that it was originally not a religious picture at all, but an
allegory of Charity. The cross in the little Baptist's hand does not
occur in the cartoon.

Almost at the end of the Via Ghibellina are the Prisons which occupy
the site of the famous convent of _Le Murate_. In this convent
Caterina Sforza, the dethroned Lady of Forlì and mother of Giovanni
delle Bande Nere, ended her days in 1509. Here the Duchessina, or
"Little Duchess," as Caterina dei Medici was called, was placed by the
Signoria after the expulsion of the Medici in 1527, in order to
prevent Pope Clement VII. from using her for the purpose of a
political marriage which might endanger the city. They seem to have
feared especially the Prince of Orange. The result was that the
convent became a centre of Medicean intrigue; and the Signoria, when
the siege commenced, sent Salvestro Aldobrandini to take her away.
When Salvestro arrived, after he had been kept waiting for some time,
the little Duchess came to the grill of the parlour, dressed as a nun,
and said that she intended to take the habit and stay for ever "with
these my reverend mothers." According to Varchi, the poor little
girl--she was barely eleven years old, had lost both parents in the
year of her birth, and was practically alone in the city where the
cruellest threats had been uttered against her--was terribly
frightened and cried bitterly, "not knowing to what glory and felicity
her life had been reserved by God and the Heavens." But Messer
Salvestro and Messer Antonio de' Nerli did all they could to comfort
and reassure her, and took her to the convent of Santa Lucia in the
Via di San Gallo; "in which monastery," says Nardi, "she was received
and treated with the same maternal love by those nuns, until the end
of the war."

In the centre of the oblong Piazza di Santa Croce rises the statue and
monument of Dante Alighieri, erected on the occasion of the sixth
centenary of his birth, in those glowing early days of the first
completion of Italian unity; at its back stand the great Gothic church
and convent, which Arnolfo di Cambio commenced for the Franciscans in
1294, while Dante was still in Florence--the year before he entered
political life.

The great Piazza was a centre of festivities and stirring Florentine
life, and has witnessed many historical scenes, in old times and in
new, from the tournaments and jousts of the Middle Ages and early
Renaissance to the penitential processions of the victims of the
Inquisition in the days of the Medicean Grand Dukes, from the
preaching of San Bernardino of Siena to the missionary labours of the
Jesuit Segneri. On Christmas Day, 1301, Niccolò dei Cerchi was passing
through this Piazza with a few friends on horseback on his way to his
farm and mill--for that was hardly a happy Christmas for Guelfs of the
white faction in Florence--while a friar was preaching in the open
air, announcing the birth of Christ to the crowd; when Simone Donati
with a band of mounted retainers gave chase, and, when he overtook
him, killed him. In the scuffle Simone himself received a mortal
wound, of which he died the same night. "Although it was a just
judgment," writes Villani, "yet was it held a great loss, for the said
Simone was the most accomplished and virtuous squire in Florence, and
of the greatest promise, and he was all the hope of his father, Messer
Corso." It was in the convent of Santa Croce that the Duke of Athens
took up his abode in 1342, with much parade of religious simplicity,
when about to seize upon the lordship of Florence; here, on that
fateful September 8th, he assembled his followers and adherents in the
Piazza, whence they marched to the Parliament at the Palazzo Vecchio,
where he was proclaimed Signor of Florence for life. But in the
following year, when he attempted to celebrate Easter with great pomp
and luxury, and held grand jousts in this same Piazza for many days,
the people sullenly held aloof and very few citizens entered the
lists.

Most gorgeous and altogether successful was the tournament given here
by Lorenzo dei Medici in 1467, to celebrate his approaching marriage
with Clarice Orsini, when he jousted against all comers in honour of
the lady of his sonnets and odes, Lucrezia Donati. There was not much
serious tilting about it, but a magnificent display of rich costumes
and precious jewelled caps and helmets, and a glorious procession
which must have been a positive feast of colour. "To follow the
custom," writes Lorenzo himself, "and do like others, I gave a
tournament on the Piazza Santa Croce at great cost and with much
magnificence; I find that about 10,000 ducats were spent on it.
Although I was not a very vigorous warrior, nor a hard hitter, the
first prize was adjudged to me, a helmet inlaid with silver and a
figure of Mars as the crest."[36] He sent a long account of the
proceedings to his future bride, who answered: "I am glad that you are
successful in what gives you pleasure, and that my prayer is heard,
for I have no other wish than to see you happy." Luca Pulci, the
luckless brother of Luigi, wrote a dull poem on the not very inspiring
theme. A few years later, at the end of January 1478, a less sumptuous
entertainment of the same sort was given by Giuliano dei Medici; and
it was apparently on this occasion that Poliziano commenced his famous
stanzas in honour of Giuliano and his lady love, Simonetta,--stanzas
which were interrupted by the daggers of the Pazzi and their
accomplices. It was no longer time for soft song or courtly sport when
prelates and nobles were hanging from the palace windows, and the
thunders of the Papal interdict were about to burst over the city and
her rulers.

  [36] Quoted in Mr Armstrong's _Lorenzo de' Medici_.

Entering the Church through the unpleasing modern façade (which is,
however, said to have followed the design of Cronaca himself, the
architect of the exceedingly graceful convent of San Salvadore al
Monte on the other side of the river), we catch a glow of colour from
the east end, from the stained glass and frescoes in the choir. The
vast and spacious nave of Arnolfo--like his Palazzo Vecchio, partly
spoiled by Vasari--ends rather abruptly in the line of ten chapels
with, in the midst of them, one very high recess which represents the
apse and choir, thus giving the whole the T shape which we find in the
Italian Gothic churches which were reared for the friars preachers and
friars minor. The somewhat unsightly appearance, which many churches
of this kind present in Italy, is due to the fact that Arnolfo and his
school intended every inch of wall to be covered with significant
fresco paintings, and this coloured decoration was seldom completely
carried out, or has perished in the course of time. Fergusson remarks
that "an Italian Church without its coloured decoration is only a
framed canvas without harmony or meaning."

Santa Croce is, in the words of the late Dean of Westminster, "the
recognised shrine of Italian genius." On the pavement beneath our
feet, outstretched on their tombstones, lie effigies of grave
Florentine citizens, friars of note, prelates, scholars, warriors; in
their robes of state or of daily life, in the Franciscan garb or in
armour, with arms folded across their breasts, or still clasping the
books they loved and wrote (in this way the humanists, such as
Leonardo Bruni, were laid out in state after death); the knights have
their swords by their sides, which they had wielded in defence of the
Republic, and their hands clasped in prayer. Here they lie, waiting
the resurrection. Has any echo of the Risorgimento reached them? In
their long sleep, have they dreamed aught of the movement that has led
Florence to raise tablets to the names of Cavour and Mazzini upon
these walls? The tombs on the floor of the nave are mostly of the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; the second from the central door
is that of Galileo dei Galilei, like the other scholars lying with his
hands folded across the book on his breast, the ancestor of the
immortal astronomer: "This Galileo of the Galilei was, in his time,
the head of philosophy and medicine; who also in the highest
magistracy loved the Republic marvellously." About the middle of the
nave is the tomb of John Catrick, Bishop of Exeter, who had come to
Florence on an embassy from Henry V. of England to Pope Martin V., in
1419. But those on the floor at the end of the right aisle and in the
short right transept are the earliest and most interesting to the
lover of early Florentine history; notice, for instance, the knightly
tomb of a warrior of the great Ghibelline house of the Ubaldini, dated
1358, at the foot of the steps to the chapel at the end of the right
transept; and there is a similar one, only less fine, on the opposite
side. Larger and more pretentious tombs and monuments of more recent
date, to the heroes of Italian life and thought, pass in series along
the side walls of the whole church, between the altars of the south
and north (right and left) aisles.

  [Illustration: SANTA CROCE]

Over the central door, below the window whose stained glass is said to
have been designed by Ghiberti, is Donatello's bronze statue of King
Robert's canonised brother, the Franciscan Bishop St. Louis of
Toulouse. This St. Louis, the patron saint of the Parte Guelfa, had
been ordered by the captains of the Party for their niche at San
Michele in Orto, from which he was irreverently banished shortly after
the restoration of Cosimo dei Medici, when the Parte Guelfa was forced
to surrender its niche. On the left of the entrance should be
noticed with gratitude the tomb of the historian of the Florentine
Republic, the Italian patriot, Gino Capponi.

In the right aisle are the tomb and monument of Michelangelo, designed
by Giorgio Vasari; on the pillar opposite to it, over the holy water
stoop, a beautiful Madonna and Child in marble by Bernardo Rossellino,
beneath which lies Francesco Nori, who was murdered whilst defending
Lorenzo dei Medici in the Pazzi conspiracy; the comparatively modern
monument to Dante, whose bones rest at Ravenna and for whom
Michelangelo had offered in vain to raise a worthy sepulchre. Two
sonnets by the great sculptor supply to some extent in verse what he
was not suffered to do in marble: I quote the finer of the two, from
Addington Symonds' excellent translation:--

     From Heaven his spirit came, and, robed in clay,
       The realms of justice and of mercy trod:
       Then rose a living man to gaze on God,
       That he might make the truth as clear as day.
     For that pure star, that brightened with its ray
       The undeserving nest where I was born,
       The whole wide world would be a prize to scorn:
       None but his Maker can due guerdon pay.
     I speak of Dante, whose high work remains
       Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless brood
       Who only to just men deny their wage.
     Were I but he! Born for like lingering pains,
       Against his exile coupled with his good
       I'd gladly change the world's best heritage.

Then comes Canova's monument to Vittorio Alfieri, the great tragic
dramatist of Italy (died 1803); followed by an eighteenth century
monument to Machiavelli (died 1527), and the tomb of Padre Lanzi, the
Jesuit historian of Italian art. The pulpit by a pillar in the nave is
considered the most beautiful pulpit in Italy, and is, perhaps,
Benedetto da Maiano's finest work; the bas-reliefs in marble
represent scenes from the life of St. Francis and the martyrdom of
some of his friars, with figures of the virtues below. Beyond Padre
Lanzi's grave, over the tomb of the learned Franciscan Fra Benedetto
Cavalcanti, are two exceedingly powerful figures of saints in fresco,
the Baptist and St. Francis; they have been ascribed to various
painters, but are almost certainly the work of Domenico Veneziano, and
closely resemble the figures of the same saints in his undoubtedly
genuine picture in the Sala di Lorenzo Monaco in the Uffizi. The
adjacent Annunciation by Donatello, in _pietra serena_, was also made
for the Cavalcanti; its fine Renaissance architectural setting is
likewise Donatello's work. Above it are four lovely wooden Putti, who
seem embracing each other for fear of tumbling off from their height;
originally there were six, and the other two are preserved in the
convent. M. Reymond has shown that this Annunciation is not an early
work of the master's, as Vasari and others state, but is of the same
style and period as the Cantoria of the Duomo, about 1435. Lastly, at
the end of the right aisle is the splendid tomb of Leonardo Bruni
(died 1444), secretary of the Republic, translator of Plato, historian
of Florence, biographer of Dante,--the outstretched recumbent figure
of the grand old humanist, watched over by Mary and her Babe with the
Angels, by Bernardo Rossellino. A worthy monument to a noble soul,
whose memory is dear to every lover of Dante. Yet we may, not without
advantage, contrast it with the simpler Gothic sepulchres on the floor
of the transepts,--the marble slabs that cover the bones of the old
Florentines who, in war and peace, did the deeds of which Leonardo and
his kind wrote.

The tombs and monuments in the left aisle are less interesting.
Opposite Leonardo Bruni's tomb is that of his successor, Carlo
Marsuppini, called Carlo Aretino (died 1453), by Desiderio da
Settignano; he was a good Greek scholar, a fluent orator and a
professed Pagan, but accomplished no literary work of any value;
utterly inferior as a man and as an author to Leonardo, he has an even
more gorgeous tomb. In this aisle there are modern monuments to
Vespasiano Bisticci and Donatello; and, opposite to Michelangelo's
tomb, that of Galileo himself (died 1642), with traces of old
fourteenth century frescoes round it, which may, perhaps, symbolise
for us the fleeting phantoms of mediæval thought fading away before
the advance of science.

In the central chapel of the left or northern transept is the famous
wooden Crucifix by Donatello, which gave rise to the fraternal contest
between him and Brunelleschi. Brunelleschi told his friend that he had
put upon his cross a contadino and not a figure like that of Christ.
"Take some wood then," answered the nettled sculptor, "and try to make
one thyself." Filippo did so; and when it was finished Donatello was
so stupefied with admiration, that he let drop all the eggs and other
things that he was carrying for their dinner. "I have had all I want
for to-day," he exclaimed; "if you want your share, take it: to thee
is it given to carve Christs and to me to make contadini." The rival
piece may still be seen in Santa Maria Novella, and there is not much
to choose between them. Donatello's is, perhaps, somewhat more
realistic and less refined.

The first two chapels of the left transept (fifth and fourth from the
choir, respectively,) contain fourteenth century frescoes; a warrior
of the Bardi family rising to judgment, the healing of Constantine's
leprosy and other miracles of St. Sylvester, ascribed to Maso di
Banco; the martyrdom of St. Lawrence and the martyrdom of St.
Stephen, by Bernardo Daddi (the painter to whom it is attempted to
ascribe the famous Last Judgment and Triumph of Death in the Pisan
Campo Santo). All these imply a certain Dantesque selection; these
subjects are among the examples quoted for purposes of meditation or
admonition in the _Divina Commedia_. The coloured terracotta relief is
by Giovanni della Robbia. The frescoes of the choir, by Agnolo Gaddi,
are among the finest works of Giotto's school. They set forth the
history of the wood of the True Cross, which, according to the legend,
was a shoot of the tree of Eden planted by Seth on Adam's grave; the
Queen of Sheba prophetically adored it, when she came to visit Solomon
during the building of the Temple; cast into the pool of Bethsaida,
the Jews dragged it out to make the Cross for Christ; then, after it
had been buried on Mount Calvary for three centuries, St. Helen
discovered it by its power of raising the dead to life. These subjects
are set forth on the right wall; on the left, we have the taking of
the relic of the Cross by the Persians under Chosroes, and its
recovery by the Emperor Heraclius. In the scene where the Emperor
barefooted carries the Cross into Jerusalem, the painter has
introduced his own portrait, near one of the gates of the city, with a
small beard and a red hood. Vasari thinks poorly of these frescoes;
but the legend of the True Cross is of some importance to the student
of Dante, whose profound allegory of the Church and Empire in the
Earthly Paradise, at the close of the _Purgatorio_, is to some extent
based upon it.

The two Gothic chapels to the right of the choir contain Giotto's
frescoes--both chapels were originally entirely painted by
him--rescued from the whitewash under which they were discovered, and,
in part at least, most terribly "restored." The frescoes in the
first, the Bardi Chapel, illustrating the life of St. Francis, have
suffered most; all the peculiar Giottesque charm of face has
disappeared, and, instead, the restorer has given us monotonous
countenances, almost deadly in their uniformity and utter lack of
expression. Like all mediæval frescoes dealing with St. Francis, they
should be read with the _Fioretti_ or with Dante's _Paradiso_, or with
one of the old lives of the Seraphic Father in our hands. On the left
(beginning at the top) we have his renunciation of the world in the
presence of his father and the Bishop of Assisi--_innanzi alla sua
spirital corte, et coram patre_, as Dante puts it; on the right, the
confirmation of the order by Pope Honorius; on the left, the
apparition of St. Francis to St. Antony of Padua; on the right, St.
Francis and his followers before the Soldan--_nella presenza del
Soldan superba_--in the ordeal of fire; and, below it, St. Francis on
his death-bed, with the apparition to the sleeping bishop to assure
him of the truth of the Stigmata. Opposite, left, the body is
surrounded by weeping friars, the incredulous judge touching the wound
in the side, while the simplest of the friars, at the saint's head,
sees his soul carried up to heaven in a little cloud. This conception
of saintly death was, perhaps, originally derived from Dante's dream
of Beatrice in the _Vita Nuova_: "I seemed to look towards heaven, and
to behold a multitude of Angels who were returning upwards, having
before them an exceedingly white cloud; and these Angels were singing
together gloriously." It became traditional in early Italian painting.
On the window wall are four great Franciscans. St. Louis the King (one
whom Dante does not seem to have held in honour), a splendid figure,
calm and noble, in one hand the sceptre and in the other the
Franciscan cord, his royal robe besprinkled with the golden lily of
France over the armour of the warrior of the Cross; his face absorbed
in celestial contemplation. He is the Christian realisation of the
Platonic philosopher king; "St. Louis," says Walter Pater, "precisely
because his whole being was full of heavenly vision, in self
banishment from it for a while, led and ruled the French people so
magnanimously alike in peace and war." Opposite him is St. Louis of
Toulouse, with the royal crown at his feet; below are St. Elizabeth of
Hungary, with her lap full of flowers; and, opposite to her, St.
Clare, of whom Dante's Piccarda tells so sweetly in the
_Paradiso_--that lady on high whom "perfected life and lofty merit
doth enheaven." On the vaulted roof of the chapel are the glory of St.
Francis and symbolical representations of the three vows--Poverty,
Chastity, Obedience; not rendered as in Giotto's great allegories at
Assisi, of which these are, as it were, his own later simplifications,
but merely as the three mystical Angels that met Francis and his
friars on the road to Siena, crying "Welcome, Lady Poverty." The
picture of St. Francis on the altar, ascribed by Vasari to Cimabue, is
probably by some unknown painter at the close of the thirteenth
century.

The frescoes in the following, the Chapel of the Peruzzi, are very
much better preserved, especially in the scene of Herod's feast. Like
all Giotto's genuine work, they are eloquent in their pictorial
simplicity of diction; there are no useless crowds of spectators, as
in the later work of Ghirlandaio and his contemporaries. On the left
is the life of St. John the Baptist--the Angel appearing to Zacharias,
the birth and naming of the Precursor, the dance of the daughter of
Herodias at Herod's feast. This last has suffered less from
restoration than any other work of Giotto's in Florence; both the
rhythmically moving figure of the girl herself and that of the
musician are very beautiful, and the expression on Herod's face is
worthy of the psychological insight of the author of the Vices and
Virtues in the Madonna's chapel at Padua. Ruskin talks of "the striped
curtain behind the table being wrought with a variety and fantasy of
playing colour which Paul Veronese could not better at his best." On
the right wall is the life of the Evangelist, John the Divine, or
rather its closing scenes; the mystical vision at Patmos, the seer
_dormendo con la faccia arguta_, like the solitary elder who brought
up the rear of the triumphal pageant in Dante's Earthly Paradise; the
raising of Drusiana from the dead; the assumption of St. John. The
curious legend represented in this last fresco--that St. John was
taken up body and soul, _con le due stole_, into Heaven after death,
and that his disciples found his tomb full of manna--was, of course,
based upon the saying that went abroad among the brethren, "that that
disciple should not die"; it is mentioned as a pious belief by St.
Thomas, but is very forcibly repudiated by Giotto's great friend,
Dante; in the _Paradiso_ St. John admonishes him to tell the world
that only Christ and the Blessed Virgin rose from the dead. "In the
earth my body is earth, and shall be there with the others, until our
number be equalled with the eternal design."

In the last chapel of the south transept, there are two curious
frescoes apparently of the beginning of the fourteenth century, in
honour of St. Michael; they represent his leading the Angelic hosts
against the forces of Lucifer, and the legend of his apparition at
Monte Gargano. The frescoes in the chapel at the end of the transept,
the Baroncelli chapel, representing scenes in the life of the Blessed
Virgin, are by Giotto's pupil, Taddeo Gaddi; they are similar to his
work at Assisi. The Assumption opposite was painted by Sebastiano
Mainardi from a cartoon by Domenico Ghirlandaio. In the Chapel of the
Blessed Sacrament there are more frescoed lives of saints by Taddeo's
son, Agnolo Gaddi, less admirable than his work in the choir; and
statues of two Franciscans, of the Della Robbia school. The monument
of the Countess of Albany may interest English admirers of the
Stuarts, but hardly concerns the story of Florence.

From the right transept a corridor leads off to the chapel of the
Noviciate and the Sacristy. The former, built by Michelozzo for
Cosimo, contains some beautiful terracotta work of the school of the
Della Robbia, a tabernacle by Mino da Fiesole, and a Coronation of the
Blessed Virgin ascribed to Giotto. This Coronation was originally the
altar piece of the Baroncelli chapel, and is an excellent picture,
although its authenticity is not above suspicion; the signature is
almost certainly a forgery; this title of _Magister_ was Giotto's pet
aversion, as we know from Boccaccio, and he never used it. Opening out
of the Sacristy is a chapel, decorated with beautiful frescoes of the
life of the Blessed Virgin and St. Mary Magdalene, now held to be the
work of Taddeo Gaddi's Lombard pupil, Giovanni da Milano. There is, as
has already been said, very little individuality in the work of
Giotto's followers, but these frescoes are among the best of their
kind.

The first Gothic cloisters belong to the epoch of the foundation of
the church, and were probably designed by Arnolfo himself; the second,
early Renaissance, are Brunelleschi's. The Refectory, which is entered
from the first cloisters, contains a fresco of the Last Supper--one of
the earliest renderings of this theme for monastic dining-rooms--which
used to be assigned to Giotto, and is probably by one of his
scholars. This room had the invidious honour of being the seat of the
Inquisition, which in Florence had always--save for a very brief
period in the thirteenth century--been in the hands of the
Franciscans, and not the Dominicans. It never had any real power in
Florence--the _bel viver fiorentino_, which, even in the days of
tyranny, was always characteristic of the city, was opposed to its
influence. The beautiful chapel of the Pazzi was built by
Brunelleschi; its frieze of Angels' heads is by Donatello and
Desiderio; within are Luca della Robbia's Apostles and Evangelists.
Jacopo Pazzi had headed the conspiracy against the Medici in 1478,
and, after attempting to raise the people, had been captured in his
escape, tortured and hanged. It was said that he had cried in dying
that he gave his soul to the devil; he was certainly a notorious
gambler and blasphemer. When buried here, the peasants believed that
he brought a curse upon their crops; so the rabble dug him up, dragged
the body through the streets, and finally with every conceivable
indignity threw it into the Arno.

Behind Santa Croce two streets of very opposite names and traditions
meet, the _Via Borgo Allegri_ (which also intersects the Via
Ghibellina) and the _Via dei Malcontenti_; the former records the
legendary birthday of Italian painting, the latter the mournful
processions of poor wretches condemned to death.

According to the tradition, Giovanni Cimabue had his studio in the
former street, and it was here that, in Dante's words, he thought to
hold the field in painting: _Credette Cimabue nella pittura tener lo
campo._ Here, according to Vasari, he was visited by Charles the Elder
of Anjou, and his great Madonna carried hence in procession with music
and lighted candles, ringing of bells and waving of banners, to Santa
Maria Novella; while the street that had witnessed such a miracle was
ever after called _Borgo Allegri_, "the happy suburb:" "named the Glad
Borgo from that beauteous face," as Elizabeth Barrett Browning puts
it. Unfortunately there are several little things that show that this
story needs revision of some kind. When Charles of Anjou came to
Florence, the first stone of Santa Maria Novella had not yet been
laid, and the picture now shown there as Cimabue's appears to be a
Sienese work. The legend, however, is very precious, and should be
devoutly held. The king in question was probably another Angevin
Charles--Carlo Martello, grandson of the elder Charles and titular
King of Hungary, Dante's friend, who was certainly in Florence for
nearly a month in the spring of 1295, and made himself exceedingly
pleasant. Vasari has made a similar confusion in the case of two
emperors of the name of Frederick. The picture has doubtless perished,
but the Joyous Borgo has not changed its name.

The Via dei Malcontenti leads out into the broad Viale Carlo Alberto,
which marks the site of Arnolfo's wall. It formerly ended in a postern
gate, known as the Porta della Giustizia, beyond which was a little
chapel--of which no trace is left--and the place where the gallows
stood. The condemned were first brought to a chapel which stood in the
Via dei Malcontenti, near the present San Giuseppe, and then taken out
to the chapel beyond the gate, where the prayers for the dying were
said over them by the friars, after which they were delivered to the
executioner.[37] In May 1503, as Simone Filipepi tells us, a man was
beheaded here, whom the people apparently regarded as innocent; when
he was dead, they rose up and stoned the executioner to death. And
this was the same executioner who, five years before, had hanged
Savonarola and his companions in the Piazza, and had insulted their
dead bodies to please the dregs of the populace. The tower, of which
the mutilated remains still stand here, the _Torre della Zecca
Vecchia_, formerly called the _Torre Reale_, was originally a part of
the defences of a bridge which it was intended to build here in honour
of King Robert of Naples in 1317, and guarded the Arno at this point.
After the siege, during which the Porta della Giustizia was walled up,
Duke Alessandro incorporated the then lofty Torre Reale into a strong
fortress which he constructed here, the Fortezza Vecchia. In later
days, offices connected with the Arte del Cambio and the Mint were
established in its place, whence the present name of the Torre della
Zecca Vecchia.

  [37] See Guido Carocci, _Firenze Scomparsa_, here and generally.

  [Illustration: OLD HOUSES ON THE ARNO]




CHAPTER VIII

_The Baptistery, the Campanile, and the Duomo_

   "There the traditions of faith and hope, of both the Gentile and
   Jewish races, met for their beautiful labour: the Baptistery of
   Florence is the last building raised on the earth by the
   descendants of the workmen taught by Dædalus: and the Tower of
   Giotto is the loveliest of those raised on earth under the
   inspiration of the men who lifted up the tabernacle in the
   wilderness. Of living Greek work there is none after the
   Florentine Baptistery; of living Christian work, none so perfect
   as the Tower of Giotto."--_Ruskin._

   "Il non mai abbastanza lodato tempio di Santa Maria del
   Fiore."--_Vasari._


To the west of the Piazza del Duomo stands the octagonal building of
black and white marble--"_l'antico vostro Batisteo_" as Cacciaguida
calls it to Dante--which, in one shape or another, may be said to have
watched over the history of Florence from the beginning. "It is," says
Ruskin, "the central building of Etrurian Christianity--of European
Christianity." Here, in old pagan times, stood the Temple of Mars,
with the shrine and sanctuary of the God of War. This was the
Cathedral of Florence during a portion at least of the early history
of the Republic, before the great Gothic building rose that now
overshadows it to the east.

Villani and other early writers all suppose that this present building
really was the original Temple of Mars, converted into a church for
St. John the Baptist. Villani tells us that, after the founding of
Florence by Julius Cæsar and other noble Romans, the citizens of this
new Rome decided to erect a marvellous temple to the honour of Mars,
in thanksgiving for the victory which the Romans had won over the city
of Fiesole; and for this purpose the Senate sent them the best and
most subtle masters that there were in Rome. Black and white marble
was brought by sea and then up the Arno, with columns of various
sizes; stone and other columns were taken from Fiesole, and the temple
was erected in the place where the Etruscans of Fiesole had once held
their market:--

"Right noble and beauteous did they make it with eight faces, and when
they had done it with great diligence, they consecrated it to their
god Mars, who was the god of the Romans; and they had him carved in
marble, in the shape of a knight armed on horseback. They set him upon
a marble column in the midst of that temple, and him did they hold in
great reverence and adored as their god, what time Paganism lasted in
Florence. And we find that the said temple was commenced at the time
that Octavian Augustus reigned, and that it was erected under the
ascendency of such a constellation that it will last well nigh to
eternity."

There is much difference of opinion as to the real date of
construction of the present building. While some authorities have
assigned it to the eleventh or even to the twelfth century, others
have supposed that it is either a Christian temple constructed in the
sixth century on the site of the old Temple of Mars, or the original
Temple converted into Christian use. It has indeed been recently urged
that it is essentially a genuine Roman work of the fourth century,
very analogous in structure to the Pantheon at Rome, on the model of
which it was probably built. The little apse to the south-west--the
part which contains the choir and altar--is certainly of the twelfth
century. There was originally a round opening at the centre of the
dome--like the Pantheon--and under this opening, according to Villani,
the statue of Mars stood. It was closed in the twelfth century. The
dome served Brunelleschi as a model for the cupola of Santa Maria del
Fiore. The lantern was added in the sixteenth century. Although this
building, so sacrosanct to the Florentines, had been spared by the
Goths and Lombards, it narrowly escaped destruction at the hands of
the Tuscan Ghibellines. In 1249, when the Ghibellines, with the aid of
the Emperor Frederick II., had expelled the Guelfs, the conquerors
endeavoured to destroy the Baptistery by means of the tower called the
Guardamorto, which stood in the Piazza towards the entrance of the
Corso degli Adimari, and watched over the tombs of the dead citizens
who were buried round San Giovanni. This device of making the tower
fall upon the church failed. "As it pleased God," writes Villani,
"through the reverence and miraculous power of the blessed John, the
tower, when it fell, manifestly avoided the holy Church, and turned
back and fell across the Piazza; whereat all the Florentines wondered,
and the People greatly rejoiced."

At the close of the thirteenth century, in those golden days of
Dante's youth and early manhood, there were steps leading up to the
church, and it was surrounded by these tombs. Many of the latter seem
to have been old pagan sarcophagi adopted for use by the Florentine
aristocracy. Here Guido Cavalcanti used to wander in his solitary
musings and speculations--trying to find out that there was no God, as
his friends charitably suggested--and Boccaccio tells a most
delightful story of a friendly encounter between him and some young
Florentine nobles, who objected to his unsociable habits. In 1293,
Arnolfo di Cambio levelled the Piazza, removed the tombs, and
plastered the pilasters in the angles of the octagonal with slabs of
black and white marble of Prato, as now we see. The similar decoration
of the eight faces of the church is much earlier.

The interior is very dark indeed--so dark that the mosaics, which
Dante must in part have looked upon, would need a very bright day to
be visible. At present they are almost completely concealed by the
scaffolding of the restorers.[38] Over the whole church preside the
two Saints whom an earlier Florentine worshipper of Mars could least
have comprehended--the Baptist and the Magdalene. And the spirit of
Dante haunts it as he does no other Florentine building--_il mio bel
San Giovanni_, he lovingly calls it. "In your ancient Baptistery," his
ancestor tells him in the fifteenth Canto of the _Paradiso_, "I became
at once a Christian and Cacciaguida." And, indeed, the same holds true
of countless generations of Florentines--among them the keenest
intellects and most subtle hands that the world has known--all
baptised here. But it has memories of another kind. The shameful
penance of oblation to St. John--if Boccaccio's tale be true, and if
the letter ascribed to Dante is authentic--was rejected by him; but
many another Florentine, with bare feet and lighted candle, has
entered here as a prisoner in penitential garb. The present
font--although of early date--was placed here in the seventeenth
century, to replace the very famous one which played so large a part
in Dante's thoughts. Here had he been baptised--here, in one of the
most pathetic passages of the _Paradiso_, did he yearn, before death
came, to take the laurel crown:--

  [38] The earliest of these mosaics are those in the tribune, executed
  originally by a certain Fra Jacopo in the year 1225; those in the dome
  are in part ascribed to Dante's contemporary, Andrea Tafi.

     Se mai continga che il poema sacro,
       al quale ha posto mano e cielo e terra,
       sì che m'ha fatto per più anni macro,
     vinca la crudeltà, che fuor mi serra
       del bello ovil, dov'io dormii agnello,
       nimico ai lupi che gli danno guerra;
     con altra voce omai, con altro vello
       ritornerò poeta, ed in sul fonte
       del mio battesmo prenderò il cappello;
     però che nella Fede, che fa conte
       l'anime a Dio, quivi entra' io.[39]

  [39]
     Should it e'er come to pass that the sacred poem to which
       both heaven and earth so have set hand, that it hath
       made me lean through many a year,
     should overcome the cruelty which doth bar me forth from
       the fair sheepfold wherein I used to sleep, a lamb, foe to
       the wolves which war upon it;
     with changed voice now, and with changed fleece shall I
       return, a poet, and at the font of my baptism shall I
       assume the chaplet;
     because into the Faith which maketh souls known of God,
       'twas there I entered.
         --Par. xxv. 1-11, _Wicksteed's translation_.

This ancient font, which stood in the centre of the church, appears to
have had round holes or _pozzetti_ in its outer wall, in which the
priests stood to baptise; and Dante tells us in the _Inferno_ that he
broke one of these _pozzetti_, to save a boy from being drowned or
suffocated. The boy saved was apparently not being baptised, but was
playing about with others, and had either tumbled into the font itself
or climbed head foremost into one of the _pozzetti_. When the divine
poet was exiled, charitable people said that he had done this from
heretical motives--just as they had looked with suspicion upon his
friend Guido's spiritual wanderings in the same locality.

  [Illustration: THE BAPTISTERY]

Though the old font has gone, St. John, to the left of the high altar,
still keeps watch over all the Florentine children brought to be
baptised--to be made _conti_, known to God, and to himself in God.
Opposite to him is the great type of repentance after baptism, St.
Mary Magdalene, a wooden statue by Donatello. What a contrast is here
with those pagan Magdalenes of the Renaissance--such as Titian and
Correggio painted! Fearfully wasted and haggard, this terrible figure
of asceticism--when once the first shock of repulsion is got over--is
unmistakably a masterpiece of the sculptor; it is as though one of the
Penitential Psalms had taken bodily shape.

On the other side of the church stands the tomb of the dethroned Pope,
John XXIII., Baldassarre Cossa, one of the earliest works in the
Renaissance style, reared by Michelozzo and Donatello, 1424-1427, for
Cosimo dei Medici. The fallen Pontiff rests at last in peace in the
city which had witnessed his submission to his successful rival,
Martin V., and which had given a home to his closing days; here he
lies, forgetful of councils and cardinals:--

     "After life's fitful fever he sleeps well."

The recumbent figure in bronze is the work of Donatello, as also the
Madonna and Child that guard his last slumber. Below, are Faith, Hope,
and Charity--the former by Michelozzo (to whom also the architectural
part of the monument is due), the two latter by Donatello. It is said
that Pope Martin V. objected to the inscription, "quondam papa," and
was answered in the words of Pilate: _quod scripsi, scripsi_.

       *       *       *       *       *

But the glory of the Baptistery is in its three bronze gates, the
finest triumph of bronze casting. On November 6th, 1329, the consuls
of the Arte di Calimala, who had charge of the works of San Giovanni,
ordained that their doors should be of metal and as beautiful as
possible. The first of the three, now the southern gate opposite the
Bigallo (but originally the _porta di mezzo_ opposite the Duomo), was
assigned by them to Andrea Pisano on January 9th, 1330; he made the
models in the same year, as the inscription on the gate itself shows;
the casting was finished in 1336. Vasari's statement that Giotto
furnished the designs for Andrea is now entirely discredited. These
gates set before us, in twenty-eight reliefs, twenty scenes from the
life of the Baptist with eight symbolical virtues below--all set round
with lions' heads. Those who know the work of the earlier Pisan
masters, Niccolò and Giovanni, will at once perceive how completely
Andrea has freed himself from the traditions of the school of Pisa;
instead of filling the whole available space with figures on different
planes and telling several stories at once, Andrea composes his relief
of a few figures on the same plane, and leaves the background free.
There are never any unnecessary figures or mere spectators; the bare
essentials of the episode are set before us as simply as possible,
whether it be Zacharias writing the name of John or the dance of the
daughter of Herodias, which may well be compared with Giotto's
frescoes in Santa Croce. Most perfect of all are the eight figures of
the Virtues in the eight lower panels, and they should be compared
with Giotto's allegories at Padua. We have Hope winged and straining
upwards towards a crown, Faith with cross and sacramental cup, Charity
and Prudence, above; Fortitude, Temperance and Justice below; and
then, to complete the eight, Dante's favourite virtue, the maiden
Humility. The Temperance, with Giotto and Andrea Pisano, is not the
mere opposite of Gluttony, with pitcher of water and cup (as we may
see her presently in Santa Maria Novella); but it is the cardinal
virtue which, St. Thomas says, includes "any virtue whatsoever that
puts in practice moderation in any matter, and restrains appetite in
its tendency in any direction." Andrea Pisano's Temperance sits next
to his Justice, with the sword and scales; she too has a sword, even
as Justice has, but she is either sheathing it or drawing it with
reluctance.

The lovely and luxuriant decorative frieze that runs round this portal
was executed by Ghiberti's pupils in the middle of the fifteenth
century. Over the gate is the beheading of St. John the Baptist--two
second-rate figures by Vincenzo Danti.

The second or northern gate is more than three-quarters of a century
later, and it is the result of that famous competition which opened
the Quattrocento. It was assigned to Lorenzo Ghiberti in 1403, and he
had with him his stepfather Bartolo di Michele, and other assistants
(including possibly Donatello). It was finished and set up gilded in
April 1424, at the main entry between the two porphyry columns,
opposite the Duomo, whence Andrea's gate was removed. It will be
observed that each new gate was first put in this place of honour, and
then translated to make room for its better. The plan of Ghiberti's is
similar to that of Andrea's gate--in fact it is his style of work
brought to its ultimate perfection. Twenty-eight reliefs represent
scenes from the New Testament, from the Annunciation to the Descent of
the Holy Spirit, while in eight lower compartments are the four
Evangelists and the four great Latin Doctors. The scene of the
Temptation of the Saviour is particularly striking, and the figure of
the Evangelist John, the Eagle of Christ, has the utmost grandeur.
Over the door are three finely modelled figures representing St. John
the Baptist disputing with a Levite and a Pharisee--or, perhaps, the
Baptist between two Prophets--by Giovanni Francesco Rustici
(1506-1511), a pupil of Verrocchio's, who appears to have been
influenced by Leonardo da Vinci.

But in the third or eastern gate, opposite the Duomo, Ghiberti was to
crown the whole achievement of his life. Mr Perkins remarks: "Had he
never lived to make the second gates, which to the world in general
are far superior to the first, he would have been known in history as
a continuator of the school of Andrea Pisano, enriched with all those
added graces which belonged to his own style, and those refinements of
technique which the progress made in bronze casting had rendered
perfect."[40] In the meantime the laws of perspective had been
understood, and their science set forth by Brunelleschi; and when
Ghiberti, on the completion of his first gates, was in January 1425
invited by the consuls of the Guild (amongst whom was the great
anti-Medicean politician, Niccolò da Uzzano) to model the third doors,
he was full of this new knowledge. "I strove," he says in his
commentaries, "to imitate nature to the uttermost." The subjects were
selected for him by Leonardo Bruni--ten stories from the Old Testament
which, says Leonardo in his letter to Niccolò da Uzzano and his
colleagues, "should have two things: first and chiefly, they must be
illustrious; and secondly, they must be significant. Illustrious, I
call those which can satisfy the eye with variety of design;
significant, those which have importance worthy of memory." For the
rest, their main instructions to him were that he should make the
whole the richest, most perfect and most beauteous work imaginable,
regardless of time and cost.

  [40] By these "second gates" are of course meant Ghiberti's second
  gates: in reality the "third gates" of the Baptistery.

The work took more than twenty-five years. The stories were all
modelled in wax by 1440, when the casting of the bronze commenced;
the whole was finished in 1447, gilded in 1452--the gilding has
happily worn off from all the gates--and finally set up in June 1452,
in the place where Ghiberti's other gate had been. Among his numerous
assistants were again his stepfather Bartolo, his son Vittorio, and,
among the less important, the painters Paolo Uccello and Benozzo
Gozzoli.

The result is a series of most magnificent pictures in bronze.
Ghiberti worked upon his reliefs like a painter, and lavished all the
newly-discovered scientific resources of the painter's art upon them.
Whether legitimate sculpture or not, it is, beyond a doubt, one of the
most beautiful things in the world. "I sought to understand," he says
in his second commentary, that book which excited Vasari's scorn, "how
forms strike upon the eye, and how the theoretic part of graphic and
pictorial art should be managed. Working with the utmost diligence and
care, I introduced into some of my compositions as many as a hundred
figures, which I modelled upon different planes, so that those nearest
the eye might appear larger, and those more remote smaller in
proportion." It is a triumph of science wedded to the most exquisite
sense of beauty. Each of the ten bas-reliefs contains several motives
and an enormous number of these figures on different planes; which is,
in a sense, going back from the simplicity of Andrea Pisano to glorify
the old manner of Niccolò and Giovanni. In the first, the creation of
man, the creation of woman, and the expulsion from Eden are seen; in
the second, the sacrifice of Abel, in which the ploughing of Cain's
oxen especially pleased Vasari; in the third, the story of Noah; in
the fourth, the story of Abraham, a return to the theme in which
Ghiberti had won his first laurels,--the three Angels appearing to
Abraham have incomparable grace and loveliness, and the landscape in
bronze is a marvel of skill. In the fifth and sixth, we have the
stories of Jacob and Joseph, respectively; in the seventh and eighth,
of Moses and Joshua; in the ninth and tenth, of David and Solomon. The
latter is supposed to have been imitated by Raphael, in his famous
fresco of the School of Athens in the Vatican. The architectural
backgrounds--dream palaces endowed with permanent life in bronze--are
as marvellous as the figures and landscapes. Hardly less beautiful are
the minor ornaments that surround these masterpieces,--the wonderful
decorative frieze of fruits and birds and beasts that frames the
whole, the statuettes alternating with busts in the double border
round the bas-reliefs. It is the ultimate perfection of decorative
art. Among the statuettes a figure of Miriam, recalling an Angel of
Angelico, is of peculiar loveliness. In the middle of the whole, in
the centre at the lower corners of the Jacob and Joseph respectively,
are portrait busts of Lorenzo Ghiberti himself and Bartolo di Michele.
Vasari has said the last word:--

"And in very truth can it be said that this work hath its perfection
in all things, and that it is the most beautiful work of the world, or
that ever was seen amongst ancients or moderns. And verily ought
Lorenzo to be truly praised, seeing that one day Michelangelo
Buonarroti, when he stopped to look at this work, being asked what he
thought of it and if these gates were beautiful, replied: 'They are so
beautiful that they would do well for the Gates of Paradise.' Praise
verily proper, and spoken by one who could judge them."

The Baptism of Christ over the portal is an unattractive work by
Andrea Sansovino (circa 1505), finished by Vincenzo Danti. The Angel
is a seventeenth century addition. More interesting far, are the
scorched porphyry columns on either side of the gate; these were part
of the booty carried off by the Pisan galleys from Majorca in 1117,
and presented to the Florentines in gratitude for their having guarded
Pisa during the absence of the troops. Villani says that the Pisans
offered their allies the choice between these porphyry columns and
some metal gates, and that, on their choosing the columns, they sent
them to Florence covered with scarlet, but that some said that they
scorched them first for envy. It was between these columns that
Cavalcanti was lingering and musing when the gay cavalcade of Betto
Brunelleschi and his friends, in Boccaccio's novel, swooped down upon
him through the Piazza di Santa Reparata: "Thou, Guido, wilt none of
our fellowship; but lo now! when thou shalt have found that there is
no God, what wilt thou have done?"

From the gate which might have stood at the doors of Paradise, or at
least have guarded that sacred threshold by which Virgil and Dante
entered Purgatory, we cross to the tower which might fittingly have
sounded tierce and nones to the valley of the Princes. This
"Shepherd's Tower," according to Ruskin, is "the model and mirror of
perfect architecture." The characteristics of Power and Beauty, he
writes in the _Seven Lamps of Architecture_, "occur more or less in
different buildings, some in one and some in another. But all
together, and all in their highest possible relative degrees, they
exist, as far as I know, only in one building in the world, the
Campanile of Giotto."

Like Ghiberti's bronze gates, this exquisitely lovely tower of marble
has beauty beyond words: "That bright, smooth, sunny surface of
glowing jasper, those spiral shafts and fairy traceries, so white, so
faint, so crystalline, that their slight shapes are hardly traced in
darkness on the pallor of the eastern sky, that serene height of
mountain alabaster, coloured like a morning cloud, and chased like a
sea-shell." It was commenced by Giotto himself in 1334, when the first
stone was solemnly laid. When Giotto died in 1336, the work had
probably not risen above the stage of the lower series of reliefs.
Andrea Pisano was chosen to succeed him, and he carried it on from
1337 to 1342, finishing the first story and bringing it up to the
first of the three stories of windows; it will be observed that
Andrea, who was primarily a sculptor, unlike Giotto, made provision
for the presence of large monumental statues as well as reliefs in his
decorative scheme. Through some misunderstanding, Andrea was then
deprived of the work, which was intrusted to Francesco Talenti.
Francesco Talenti carried it on until 1387, making a general
modification in the architecture and decoration; the three most
beautiful windows, increasing in size as we ascend, with their
beautiful Gothic tracery, are his work. According to Giotto's original
plan, the whole was to have been crowned with a pyramidical steeple or
spire; Vasari says that it was abandoned "because it was a German
thing, and of antiquated fashion."

All around the base of the tower runs a wonderful series of
bas-reliefs on a very small scale, setting forth the whole history of
human skill under divine guidance, from the creation of man to the
reign of art, science, and letters, in twenty-seven exquisitely
"inlaid jewels of Giotto's." At each corner of the tower are three
shields, the red Cross of the People between the red lilies of the
Commune. "This smallness of scale," says Ruskin of these reliefs
"enabled the master workmen of the tower to execute them with their
own hands; and for the rest, in the very finest architecture, the
decoration of the most precious kind is usually thought of as a jewel,
and set with space round it--as the jewels of a crown, or the clasp of
a girdle." These twenty-seven subjects, with the possible exception of
the last five on the northern side, were designed by Giotto himself;
and are, together with the first bronze door, the greatest Florentine
work in sculpture of the first half of the fourteenth century. The
execution is, in the main, Andrea Pisano's; but there is a constant
tradition that some of the reliefs are from Giotto's own hand. Antonio
Pucci, in the eighty-fifth canto of his _Centiloquio_, distinctly
states that Giotto carved the earlier ones, _i primi intagli fe con
bello stile_, and Pucci was almost Giotto's contemporary. "Pastoral
life," "Jubal," "Tubal Cain," "Sculpture," "Painting," are the special
subjects which it is most plausible, or perhaps most attractive, to
ascribe to him.

On the western side we have the creation of Man, the creation of
Woman; and then, thirdly, Adam and Eve toiling, or you may call it the
dignity of labour, if you will--Giotto's rendering of the thought
which John Ball was to give deadly meaning to, or ever the fourteenth
century closed--

     When Adam delved and Evë span,
     Who was then the gentleman?

Then come pastoral life, Jabal with his tent, his flock and dog;
Jubal, the maker of stringed and wind instruments; Tubal Cain, the
first worker in metal; the first vintage, represented by the story of
Noah. On the southern side comes first Astronomy, represented by
either Zoroaster or Ptolemy. Then follow Building, Pottery, Riding,
Weaving, and (according to Ruskin) the Giving of Law. Lastly
Daedalus, symbolising, according to Ruskin, "the conquest of the
element of air"; or, more probably, here as in Dante (_Paradiso_
viii.), the typical mechanician. Next, on the eastern side, comes
Rowing, symbolising, according to Ruskin, "the conquest of the
sea"--very possibly intended for Jason and the Argo, a type adopted in
several places by Dante. The next relief, "the conquest of the earth,"
probably represents the slaying of Antæus by Hercules, and symbolises
the "beneficent strength of civilisation, crushing the savageness of
inhumanity." Giotto uses his mythology much as Dante does--as
something only a little less sacred, and of barely less authority than
theology--and the conquest of Antæus by Hercules was a solemn subject
with Dante too; besides a reference in the _Inferno_, he mentions it
twice in the _De Monarchia_ as a special revelation of God's judgment
by way of ordeal, and touches upon it again in the _Convivio, secondo
le testimonianze delle scritture_. Here Hercules immediately follows
the "conquest of the sea," as having, by his columns, set sacred
limits to warn men that they must pass no further (_Inferno_ xxvi.).
Brutality being thus overthrown, we are shown agriculture and
trade,--represented by a splendid team of ploughing bulls and a
horse-chariot, respectively. Then, over the door of the tower, the
Lamb with the symbol of Resurrection, perhaps, as Ruskin thinks, to
"express the law of Sacrifice and door of ascent to Heaven"; or,
perhaps, merely as being the emblem of the great Guild of wool
merchants, the Arte della Lana, who had charge of the cathedral works.
Then follow the representations of the arts, commencing with the
relief at the corner: Geometry, regarded as the foundation of the
others to follow, as being _senza macula d'errore e certissima_.
Turning the corner, the first and second, on the northern side,
represent Sculpture and Painting, and were possibly carved by Giotto
himself. The remaining five are all later, and from the hand of Luca
della Robbia, who perhaps worked from designs left by Giotto--Grammar,
which may be taken to represent Literature in general, Arithmetic, the
science of numbers (in its great mediæval sense), Dialectics; closing
with Music, in some respects the most beautiful of the series,
symbolised in Orpheus charming beasts and birds by his strains, and
Harmony. "Harmony of song," writes Ruskin, "in the full power of it,
meaning perfect education in all art of the Muses and of civilised
life; the mystery of its concord is taken for the symbol of that of a
perfect state; one day, doubtless, of the perfect world."

Above this fundamental series of bas-reliefs, there runs a second
series of four groups of seven. They were probably executed by pupils
of Andrea Pisano, and are altogether inferior to those below--the
seven Sacraments on the northern side being the best. Above are a
series of heroic statues in marble. Of these the oldest are those less
easily visible, on the north opposite the Duomo, representing David
and Solomon, with two Sibyls; M. Reymond ascribes them to Andrea
Pisano. Those opposite the Misericordia are also of the fourteenth
century. On the east are Habakkuk and Abraham, by Donatello (the
latter in part by a pupil), between two Patriarchs probably by Niccolò
d'Arezzo, the chief sculptor of the Florentine school at the end of
the Trecento. Three of the four statues opposite the Baptistery are by
Donatello; figures of marvellous strength and vigour. It is quite
uncertain whom they are intended to represent (the "Solomon" and
"David," below the two in the centre, refer to the older statues which
once stood here), but the two younger are said to be the Baptist and
Jeremiah. The old bald-headed prophet, irreverently called the
_Zuccone_ or "Bald-head," is one of Donatello's masterpieces, and is
said to have been the sculptor's own favourite creation. Vasari tells
us that, while working upon it, Donatello used to bid it talk to him,
and, when he wanted to be particularly believed, he used to swear by
it: "By the faith that I bear to my Zuccone."

       *       *       *       *       *

  [Illustration: THE BIGALLO]

At the end of the Via Calzaioli, opposite the Baptistery, is that
little Gothic gem, the Loggia called the _Bigallo_, erected between
1352 and 1358, for the "Captains of Our Lady of Mercy," while Orcagna
was rearing his more gorgeous tabernacle for the "Captains of Our Lady
of Or San Michele." Its architect is unknown; his manner resembles
Orcagna's, to whom the work has been erroneously ascribed. The Madonna
is by Alberto Arnoldi (1361). The Bigallo was intended for the public
functions of charity of the foundling hospital, which was founded
under the auspices of the Confraternity of the Misericordia, whose
oratory is on the other side of the way. These Brothers of Mercy, in
their mysterious black robes hiding their faces, are familiar enough
even to the most casual visitor to Florence; and their work of succour
to the sick and injured has gone on uninterruptedly throughout the
whole of Florentine history.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the last decade of the thirteenth century, when the People and
Commune of Florence were in an unusually peaceful state, after the
tumults caused by the reforms and expulsion of Giano della Bella had
subsided, the new Cathedral was commenced on the site of the older
church of Santa Reparata. The first stones and foundations were
blessed with great solemnity in 1296; and, in this golden age of the
democracy, the work proceeded apace, until in a document of April
1299, concerning the exemption of Arnolfo di Cambio from all taxation,
it is stated that "by reason of his industry, experience and genius,
the Commune and People of Florence from the magnificent and visible
beginning of the said work of the said church, commenced by the same
Master Arnolphus, hope to have a more beautiful and more honourable
temple than any other which there is in the regions of Tuscany."

But although the original design and beginning were undoubtedly
Arnolfo's, the troublous times that fell upon Florence appear to have
interrupted the work; and it was almost abandoned for lack of funds
until 1334, when Giotto was appointed capo-maestro of the Commune and
of the work of Santa Reparata, as it was still called. The Cathedral
was now in charge of the Arte della Lana, as the Baptistery was in
that of the Arte di Calimala. It is not precisely known what Giotto
did with it; but the work languished again after his death, until
Francesco Talenti was appointed capo-maestro, and, in July 1357, the
foundations were laid of the present church of Santa Maria del Fiore,
on a larger and more magnificent scale. Arnolfo's work appears to
have been partly destroyed, partly enlarged and extended. Other
capo-maestri carried on what Francesco Talenti had commenced, until,
in 1378, just at the end of mediæval Florence, the fourth and last
great vault was closed, and the main work finished.

The completion of the Cathedral belongs to that intermediate epoch
which saw the decline of the great democracy and the dawn of the
Renaissance, and ran from 1378 to 1421, in which latter year the third
tribune was finished. Filippo Brunelleschi's dome or cupola, raised
upon a frieze or drum high above the three great semi-domes, with a
large window in each of the eight sides, was commenced in 1420 and
finished in 1434, the year which witnessed the establishment of the
Medicean regime in Florence. Vasari waxes most enthusiastic over this
work. "Heaven willed," he writes, "after the earth had been for so
many years without an excellent soul or a divine spirit, that Filippo
should leave to the world from himself the greatest, the most lofty
and the most beauteous construction of all others made in the time of
the moderns and even in that of the ancients." And Michelangelo
imitated it in St Peter's at Rome, turning back, as he rode away from
Florence, to gaze upon Filippo's work, and declaring that he could not
do anything more beautiful. Some modern writers have passed a very
different judgment. Fergusson says:--"The plain, heavy, simple
outlined dome of Brunelleschi acts like an extinguisher, crushing all
the lower part of the composition, and both internally and externally
destroying all harmony between the parts." Brunelleschi also designed
the Lantern, which was commenced shortly before his death (1446) and
finished in 1461. The palla or ball, which crowns the whole, was added
by Andrea Verrocchio. In the fresco in the Spanish Chapel of Santa
Maria Novella, you shall see the Catholic Church symbolised by the
earlier church of Santa Reparata; and, as the fresco was executed
before the middle of the fourteenth century, it apparently represents
the designs of Arnolfo and Giotto. Vasari, indeed, states that it was
taken from Arnolfo's model in wood. "From this painting," he says, "it
is obvious that Arnolfo had proposed to raise the dome immediately
over the piers and above the first cornice, at that point namely where
Filippo di Ser Brunellesco, desiring to render the building less
heavy, interposed the whole space wherein we now see the windows,
before adding the dome."[41]

  [41] "There is only one point from which the size of the Cathedral of
  Florence is felt; and that is from the corner of the Via de'
  Balestrieri, opposite the south-east angle, where it happens that the
  dome is seen rising instantly above the apse and transepts" (_Seven
  Lamps_).

  [Illustration: PORTA DELLA MANDORLA, DUOMO]

The Duomo has had three façades. Of the first façade, the façade of
Arnolfo's church before 1357, only two statues remain which probably
formed part of it; one of Boniface VIII. within the Cathedral, of
which more presently, and a statue of a Bishop in the sacristy. The
second façade, commenced in 1357, and still in progress in 1420, was
left unfinished, and barbarously destroyed towards the end of the
sixteenth century. A fresco by Poccetti in the first cloister of San
Marco, the fifth to the right of the entrance, representing the
entrance of St. Antoninus into Florence to take possession of his see,
shows this second façade. Some of the statues that once decorated it
still exist. The Boniface reappeared upon it from the first façade,
between St. Peter and St. Paul; over the principal gate was Our Lady
of the Flower herself, presenting her Child to give His blessing to
the Florentines--and this is still preserved in the Opera del
Duomo--by an unknown artist of the latter half of the fourteenth
century; she was formerly attended by Zenobius and Reparata, while
Angels held a canopy over her--these are lost. Four Doctors of the
Church, now mutilated and transformed into poets, are still to be seen
on the way to Poggio Imperiale--by Niccolò d'Arezzo and Piero di
Giovanni Tedesco (1396); some Apostles, probably by the latter, and
very fine works, are in the court of the Riccardi Palace. The last
statues made for the façade, the four Evangelists, of the first
fifteen years of the Quattrocento, are now within the present church,
in the chapels of the Tribune of St. Zenobius. There is a curious
tradition that Donatello placed Farinata degli Uberti on the façade;
and few men would have deserved the honour better. After the sixteenth
century the façade remained a desolate waste down to our own times.
The present façade, gorgeous but admirable in its way, was designed by
De Fabris, and finished between 1875 and 1887; the first stone was
laid by Victor Emmanuel in 1860. Thus has the United Italy of to-day
completed the work of the great Republic of the Middle Ages.

  [Illustration: STATUE OF BONIFACE VIII.]

The four side gates of the Duomo are among the chief artistic
monuments of Florentine sculpture in the epoch that intervened between
the setting of Andrea Pisano and Orcagna, and the rising of Donatello
and Ghiberti. Nearer the façade, south and north, the two plainer and
earlier portals are always closed; the two more ornate and later, the
gate of the canons on the south and the gate of the Mandorla on the
north, are the ordinary entrances into the aisles of the cathedral.

Earliest of the four is the minor southern portal near the Campanile,
over which the pigeons cluster and coo. Our Lady of the Pigeons, in
the tympanum, is an excellent work of the school of Nino Pisano
(Andrea's son), rather later than the middle of the Trecento. The
northern minor portal is similar in style, with sculpture subordinated
to polychromatic decoration, but with beautiful twisted columns, of
which the two outermost rest upon grand mediæval lions, who are helped
to bear them by delicious little winged _putti_. Third in order of
construction comes the chief southern portal, the Porta dei Canonici,
belonging to the last decade of the fourteenth century. The pilasters
are richly decorated with sculptured foliage and figures of animals in
the intervals between the leaves. In the tympanum above, the Madonna
and Child with two adoring Angels--statues of great grace and
beauty--are by Lorenzo di Giovanni d'Ambrogio, 1402. Above are Angels
bearing a tondo of the Pietà.

The Porta della Mandorla is one of the most perfect examples of
Florentine decorative sculpture that exists. M. Reymond calls it "le
produit le plus pur du génie florentin dans toute l'indépendance de sa
pensée." It was commenced by Giovanni di Ambrogio, the chief master of
the canons' gate; and finished by Niccolò da Arezzo, in the early
years of the fifteenth century. The decorations of its pilasters, with
nude figures amidst the conventional foliage between the angels with
their wings and scrolls, are already almost in the spirit of the
Renaissance. The mosaic over the door, representing the Annunciation,
was executed by Domenico Ghirlandaio in 1490. "Amongst modern masters
of mosaic," says Vasari, "nothing has yet been seen better than this.
Domenico was wont to say that painting is mere design, and that the
true painting for eternity is mosaic." The two small statues of
Prophets are the earliest works of Donatello, 1405-1406. Above is the
famous relief which crowns the whole, and from which the door takes
its name--the glorified Madonna of the Mandorla. Formerly ascribed to
Jacopo della Quercia, it is now recognised as the work of Nanni di
Banco, whose father Antonio collaborated with Niccolò da Arezzo on the
door. It represents the Madonna borne up in the Mandorla surrounded by
Angels, three of whom above are hymning her triumph. With a singularly
sweet yet majestic maternal gesture, she consigns her girdle to the
kneeling Thomas on the left; on the right among the rocks, a bear is
either shaking or climbing a tree. This work, executed slightly before
1420, is the best example of the noble manner of the fourteenth
century united to the technical mastery of the fifteenth. Though
matured late, it is the most perfect fruit of the school of Orcagna.
Nanni died before it was quite completed. The precise symbolism of
the bear is not easy to determine; it occurs also in Andrea Pisano's
relief of Adam and Eve labouring, on the Campanile. According to St.
Buonaventura, the bear is an emblem of Lust; according to the
Bestiaries, of Violence. The probability is that here it merely
represents the evil one, symbolising the Fall in the Adam and Eve
relief, and now implying that Mary healed the wound that Eve had dealt
the human race--_la piaga che Maria richiuse ed unse_.

The interior is somewhat bare, and the aisles and vaults are so
proportioned and constructed as to destroy much of the effect of the
vast size both of the whole and of the parts. The nave and aisles lead
to a great octagonal space beneath the dome, where the choir is
placed, extending into three polygonal apses, those to right and left
representing the transepts.

Over the central door is a fine but restored mosaic of the Coronation
of Madonna, by Giotto's friend and contemporary, Gaddo Gaddi, which is
highly praised by Vasari. On either side stand two great equestrian
portraits in fresco of condottieri, who served the Republic in
critical times; by Andrea del Castagno is Niccolò da Tolentino, who
fought in the Florentine pay with average success and more than
average fidelity, and died in 1435, a prisoner in the hands of Filippo
Maria Visconti; by Paolo Uccello is Giovanni Aguto, or John Hawkwood,
a greater captain, but of more dubious character, who died in 1394.
Let it stand to Hawkwood's credit that St Catherine of Siena once
wrote to him, _O carissimo e dolcissimo fratello in Cristo Gesù_. By
the side of the entrance is the famous statue, mutilated but
extraordinarily impressive, of Boniface VIII., ascribed by Vasari to
Andrea Pisano, but which is certainly earlier, and may possibly,
according to M. Reymond, be assigned to Arnolfo di Cambio himself. It
represents the terrible Pontiff in the flower of his age; hardly a
portrait, but an idealised rendering of a Papal politician, a _papa
re_ of the Middle Ages. Even so might he have looked when he received
Dante and his fellow-ambassadors alone, and addressed to them the
words recorded by Dino Compagni: "Why are ye so obstinate? Humble
yourselves before me. I tell you in very truth that I have no other
intention, save for your peace. Let two of you go back, and they shall
have my benediction if they bring it about that my will be obeyed."

As though in contrast with this worldly Pope, on the first pillars in
the aisles are pictures of two ideal pastors; on the left, St Zenobius
enthroned with Eugenius and Crescentius, by an unknown painter of the
school of Orcagna; on the right, a similar but comparatively modern
picture of St Antoninus giving his blessing. In the middle of the
nave, is the original resting-place of the body of Zenobius; here the
picturesque blessing of the roses takes place on his feast-day. The
right and left aisles contain some striking statues and interesting
monuments. First on the right is a statue of a Prophet (sometimes
called Joshua), an early Donatello, said to be the portrait of
Giannozzo Manetti, between the monuments of Brunelleschi and Giotto;
the bust of the latter is by Benedetto da Maiano, and the inscription
by Poliziano. Opposite these, in the left aisle, is a most life-like
and realistic statue of a Prophet by Donatello, said to be the
portrait of Poggio Bracciolini, between modern medallions of De Fabris
and Arnolfo. Further on, on the right, are Hezekiah by Nanni di Banco,
and a fine portrait bust of Marsilio Ficino by Andrea Ferrucci
(1520)--the mystic dreamer caught in a rare moment of inspiration, as
on that wonderful day when he closed his finished Plato, and saw young
Pico della Mirandola before him. Opposite them, on the left, are David
by Ciuffagni, and a bust of the musician Squarcialupi by Benedetto da
Maiano. On the last pillars of the nave, right and left, stand later
statues of the Apostles--St Matthew by Vincenzo de' Rossi, and St
James by Jacopo Sansovino.

Under Brunelleschi's vast dome--the effect of which is terribly marred
by miserable frescoes by Vasari and Zuccheri--are the choir and the
high altar. The stained glass in the windows in the drum is from
designs of Ghiberti, Donatello (the Coronation), and Paolo Uccello.
Behind the high altar is one of the most solemn and pathetic works of
art in existence--Michelangelo's last effort in sculpture, the
unfinished Deposition from the Cross; "the strange spectral wreath of
the Florence Pietà, casting its pyramidal, distorted shadow, full of
pain and death, among the faint purple lights that cross and perish
under the obscure dome of Santa Maria del Fiore."[42] It is a group of
four figures more than life-size; the body of Christ is received in
the arms of His mother, who sustains Him with the aid of St Mary
Magdalene and the standing Nicodemus, who bends over the group at the
back with a countenance full of unutterable love and sorrow. Although,
in a fit of impatience, Michelangelo damaged the work and allowed it
to be patched up by others, he had intended it for his own sepulchre,
and there is no doubt that the Nicodemus--whose features to some
extent are modelled from his own--represents his own attitude as death
approached. His sonnet to Giorgio Vasari is an expression of the same
temper, and the most precious commentary upon his work:--

  [42] _Modern Painters_, vol. ii. "Of Imagination Penetrative."

     Now hath my life across a stormy sea,
       Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all
       Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall
       Of good and evil for eternity.
     Now know I well how that fond phantasy,
       Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall
       Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal
       Is that which all men seek unwillingly.
     Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed,
       What are they when the double death is nigh?
       The one I know for sure, the other dread.
     Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest
       My soul that turns to His great Love on high,
       Whose arms, to clasp us, on the Cross were spread.
         (_Addington Symonds' translation._)

The apse at the east end, or tribuna di San Zenobio, ends in the altar
of the Blessed Sacrament, which is also the shrine of Saint Zenobius.
The reliquary which contains his remains is the work of Lorenzo
Ghiberti, and was finished in 1446; the bronze reliefs set forth his
principal miracles, and there is a most exquisite group of those
flying Angels which Ghiberti realises so wonderfully. Some of the
glass in the windows is also from his design. The seated statues in
the four chapels, representing the four Evangelists, were originally
on the façade; the St. Luke, by Nanni di Banco, in the first chapel on
the right, is the best of the four; then follow St. John, a very early
Donatello, and, on the other side, St. Matthew by Ciuffagni and St.
Mark by Niccolò da Arezzo (slightly earlier than the others). The two
Apostles standing on guard at the entrance of the tribune, St. John
and St. Peter, are by Benedetto da Rovezzano. To right and left are
the southern and northern sacristies. Over the door of the southern
sacristy is a very beautiful bas-relief by Luca della Robbia,
representing the Ascension (1446), like a Fra Angelico in enamelled
terracotta; within the sacristy are two kneeling Angels also by Luca
(1448), practically his only isolated statues, of the greatest beauty
and harmony; and also a rather indifferent St. Michael, a late work of
Lorenzo di Credi. Over the door of the northern sacristy is the
Resurrection by Luca della Robbia (1443), perhaps his earliest extant
work in this enamelled terracotta. The bronze doors of this northern
sacristy are by Michelozzo and Luca della Robbia, assisted by Maso and
Giovanni di Bartolommeo, and were executed between 1446 and 1467. They
are composed of ten reliefs with decorative heads at the corners of
each, as in Lorenzo Ghiberti's work. Above are Madonna and Child with
two Angels; the Baptist with two Angels; in the centre the four
Evangelists, each with two Angels; and below, the four Doctors, each
with two Angels. M. Reymond has shown that the four latter are the
work of Michelozzo. Of Luca's work, the four Evangelists are later
than the two topmost reliefs, and are most beautiful; the Angels are
especially lovely, and there are admirable decorative heads between.
Within, are some characteristic _putti_ by Donatello.

The side apses, which represent the right and left transepts, guarded
by sixteenth century Apostles, and with frescoed Saints and Prophets
in the chapels by Bicci di Lorenzo, are quite uninteresting.

By the door that leads out of the northern aisle into the street, is a
wonderful picture, painted in honour of Dante by order of the State in
1465, by Domenico di Michelino, a pupil of Fra Angelico, whose works,
with this exception, are hardly identified. At the time that this was
painted, the authentic portrait of Dante still existed in the (now
lost) fresco at Santa Croce, so we may take this as a fairly probable
likeness; it is, at the same time, one of the earliest efforts to give
pictorial treatment to the _Purgatorio_. Outside the gates of Florence
stands Dante in spirit, clothed in the simple red robe of a
Florentine citizen, and wearing the laurel wreath which was denied to
him in life; in his left hand he holds the open volume of the _Divina
Commedia_, from which rays of burning light proceed and illumine all
the city. But it is not the mediæval Florence that the divine singer
had known, which his ghost now revisits, but the Florence of the
Quattrocento--with the completed Cathedral and the cupola of
Brunelleschi rising over it, with the Campanile and the great tower of
the Palazzo della Signoria completed--the Florence which has just lost
Cosimo dei Medici, Pater Patriae, and may need fresh guidance, now
that great mutations are at hand in Italy. With his right hand he
indicates the gate of Hell and its antechamber; but it is not the
torments of its true inmates that he would bid the Florentines mark,
but the shameful and degrading lot of the cowards and neutrals, the
trimmers, who would follow no standard upon earth, and are now
rejected by Heaven and Hell alike; "the crew of caitiffs hateful to
God and to his enemies," who now are compelled, goaded on by hornets
and wasps, to rush for ever after a devil-carried ensign, "which
whirling ran so quickly that it seemed to scorn all pause." Behind,
among the rocks and precipices of Hell, the monstrous fiends of
schism, treason and anarchy glare through the gate, preparing to sweep
down upon the City of the Lily, if she heeds not the lesson. In the
centre of the picture, in the distance, the Mountain of Purgation
rises over the shore of the lonely ocean, on the little island where
rushes alone grow above the soft mud. The Angel at the gate, seated
upon the rock of diamond, above the three steps of contrition,
confession, and satisfaction, marks the brows of the penitent souls
with his dazzling sword, and admits them into the terraces of the
mountain, where Pride, Anger, Envy, Sloth, Avarice, Gluttony, and
Lust (the latter, in the purifying fire of the seventh terrace, merely
indicated by the flames on the right) are purged away. On the top of
the mountain Adam and Eve stand in the Earthly Paradise, which
symbolises blessedness of this life, the end to which an ideal ruler
is to lead the human race, and the state of innocence to which the
purgatorial pains restore man. Above and around sweep the spheres of
the planets, the lower moving heavens, from which the angelic
influences are poured down upon the Universe beneath their sway.

Thirteen years after this picture was painted, the Duomo saw Giuliano
dei Medici fall beneath the daggers of the Pazzi and their
confederates on Sunday, April 26th, 1478. The bell that rang for the
Elevation of the Host was the signal. Giuliano had been moving round
about the choir, and was standing not far from the picture of Dante,
when Bernardo Baroncelli and Francesco Pazzi struck the first blows.
Lorenzo, who was on the opposite side of the choir, beat off his
assailants with his sword and then fled across into the northern
sacristy, through the bronze gates of Michelozzo and Luca della
Robbia, which Poliziano and the Cavalcanti now closed against the
conspirators. The boy cardinal, Raffaello Sansoni, whose visit to the
Medicean brothers had furnished the Pazzi with their chance, fled in
abject terror into the other sacristy. Francesco Nori, a faithful
friend of the Medici, was murdered by Baroncelli in defending his
masters' lives; he is very probably the bare-headed figure kneeling
behind Giuliano in Botticelli's Adoration of the Magi in the
Uffizi.[43]

  [43] The Duomo has fairer memories of the Pazzi, than this deed of
  blood and treachery. Their ancestor at the Crusades had carried the
  sacred fire from Jerusalem to Florence, and still, on Easter Eve, an
  artificial dove sent from the high altar lights the car of fireworks
  in the Piazza--the Carro dei Pazzi--in front of the church, in honour
  of their name.

But of all the scenes that have passed beneath Brunelleschi's cupola,
the most in accordance with the spirit of Dante's picture are those
connected with Savonarola. It was here that his most famous and most
terrible sermons were delivered; here, on that fateful September
morning when the French host was sweeping down through Italy, he gazed
in silence upon the expectant multitude that thronged the building,
and then, stretching forth his hands, cried aloud in a terrible voice
the ominous text of Genesis: "Behold I, even I, do bring a flood of
waters upon the earth;" and here, too, the fatal riot commenced which
ended with the storming of the convent. And here, in a gentler vein,
the children of Florence were wont to await the coming of their father
and prophet. "The children," writes Simone Filipepi, "were placed all
together upon certain steps made on purpose for them, and there were
about three thousand of them; they came an hour or two before the
sermon; and, in the meanwhile, some read psalms and others said the
rosary, and often choir by choir they sang lauds and psalms most
devoutly; and when the Father appeared, to mount up into the pulpit,
the said children sang the _Ave Maris Stella_, and likewise the people
answered back, in such wise that all that time, from early morning
even to the end of the sermon, one seemed to be verily in Paradise."

The Opera del Duomo or Cathedral Museum contains, besides several
works of minor importance (including the Madonna from the second
façade), three of the great achievements of Florentine sculpture
during the fifteenth century; the two _cantorie_, or organ galleries,
of Donatello and Luca della Robbia; the silver altar for the
Baptistery, with the statue of the Baptist by Michelozzo, and reliefs
in silver by Antonio Pollaiuolo and Andrea Verrocchio, representing
the Nativity of the Baptist by the former, the dance of the daughter
of Herodias and the Decollation of the Saint by the latter.

The two organ galleries, facing each other and finished almost
simultaneously (about 1440), are an utter contrast both in spirit and
in execution. There is nothing specially angelic or devotional about
Donatello's wonderful frieze of dancing genii, winged boys that might
well have danced round Venus at Psyche's wedding-feast, but would have
been out of place among the Angels who, as the old mystic puts it,
"rejoiced exceedingly when the most Blessed Virgin entered the
Heavenly City." The beauty of rhythmic movement, the joy of living and
of being young, exultancy, _baldanza_--these are what they express for
us. Luca della Robbia's boys and girls, singing together and playing
musical instruments, have less exuberance and motion, but more grace
and repose; they illustrate in ten high reliefs the verses of the
psalm, _Laudate Dominum in sanctis ejus_, which is inscribed upon the
Cantoria; and those that dance are more chastened in their joy, more
in the spirit of David before the Ark. But all are as wrapt and
absorbed in their music, as are Donatello's in their wild yet
harmonious romp.

In detail and considered separately, Luca's more perfectly finished
groups, with their exquisite purity of line, are decidedly more lovely
than Donatello's more roughly sketched, lower and flatter bas-reliefs;
but, seen from a distance and raised from the ground, as they were
originally intended, Donatello's are decidedly more effective as a
whole. It is only of late years that the reliefs have been remounted
and set up in the way we now see; and it is not quite certain whether
their present arrangement, in all respects, exactly corresponds to
what was originally intended by the masters. It was in this building,
the Opera del Duomo, that Donatello at one time had his school and
studio; and it was here, in the early years of the Cinquecento, that
Michelangelo worked upon the shapeless mass of marble which became the
gigantic David.

  [Illustration: CROSS OF THE FLORENTINE PEOPLE (FROM OLD HOUSE ON NORTH
  SIDE OF DUOMO)]

  [Illustration: ARMS OF THE MEDICI FROM THE BADIA AT FIESOLE.]




CHAPTER IX.

_The Palazzo Riccardi--San Lorenzo--San Marco._

     Per molti, donna, anzi per mille amanti,
     creata fusti, e d'angelica forma.
     Or par che'n ciel si dorma,
     s'un sol s'appropria quel ch'è dato a tanti.
         (_Michelangelo Buonarroti_).


The Via dei Martelli leads from the Baptistery into the Via Cavour,
formerly the historical Via Larga. Here stands the great Palace of the
Medici, now called the Palazzo Riccardi from the name of the family to
whom the Grand Duke Ferdinand II. sold it in the seventeenth century.

The palace was begun by Michelozzo for Cosimo the Elder shortly before
his exile, and completed after his return, when it became in reality
the seat of government of the city, although the Signoria still kept
up the pretence of a republic in the Palazzo Vecchio. Here Lorenzo the
Magnificent was born on January 1st, 1449, and here the most brilliant
and cultured society of artists and scholars that the world had seen
gathered round him and his family.[44] Here, too, after the expulsion
of Lorenzo's mad son, Piero, in 1494, Charles VIII. of France was
splendidly lodged; here Piero Capponi tore the dishonourable treaty
and saved the Republic, and here Fra Girolamo a few days later
admonished the fickle king. On the return of the Medici, the Cardinal
Giovanni, the younger Lorenzo, and the Cardinal Giulio successively
governed the city here; until in 1527 the people drove out the young
pretenders, Alessandro and Ippolito, with their guardian, the Cardinal
Passerini. It was on this latter occasion that Piero's daughter,
Madonna Clarice, the wife of the younger Filippo Strozzi, was carried
hither in her litter, and literally slanged these boys and the
Cardinal out of Florence. She is reported, with more vehemence than
delicacy, to have told her young kinsmen that the house of Lorenzo dei
Medici was not a stable for mules. During the siege, the people wished
to entirely destroy the palace and rename the place the Piazza dei
Muli.

  [44] It should be observed that Lorenzo was not specially called the
  "Magnificent" by his contemporaries. All the more prominent members of
  the Medicean family were styled _Magnifico_ in the same way.

After the restoration Alessandro carried on his abominable career
here, until, on January 5th, 1537, the dagger of another Lorenzo freed
the world from an infamous monster. Some months before, Benvenuto
Cellini came to the palace, as he tells us in his autobiography, to
show the Duke the wax models for his medals which he was making.
Alessandro was lying on his bed, indisposed, and with him was only
this Lorenzino or Lorenzaccio, _quel pazzo malinconico filosafo di
Lorenzino_, as Benvenuto calls him elsewhere. "The Duke," writes
Benvenuto, "several times signed to him that he too should urge me to
stop; upon which Lorenzino never said anything else, but: 'Benvenuto,
you would do best for yourself to stay.' To which I said that I wanted
by all means to return to Rome. He said nothing more, and kept
continually staring at the Duke with a most evil eye. Having finished
the medal and shut it up in its case, I said to the Duke: 'My Lord, be
content, for I will make you a much more beautiful medal than I made
for Pope Clement; for reason wills that I should do better, since that
was the first that ever I made; and Messer Lorenzo here will give me
some splendid subject for a reverse, like the learned person and
magnificent genius that he is.' To these words the said Lorenzo
promptly answered: 'I was thinking of nothing else, save how to give
thee a reverse that should be worthy of his Excellency.' The Duke
grinned, and, looking at Lorenzo, said: 'Lorenzo, you shall give him
the reverse, and he shall make it here, and shall not go away.'
Lorenzo replied hastily, saying: 'I will do it as quickly as I
possibly can, and I hope to do a thing that will astonish the world.'
The Duke, who sometimes thought him a madman and sometimes a coward,
turned over in his bed, and laughed at the words which he had said to
him. I went away without other ceremonies of leave-taking, and left
them alone together."

On the fatal night Lorenzino lured the Duke into his own rooms, in
what was afterwards called the Strada del Traditore, which was
incorporated into the palace by the Riccardi. Alessandro, tired out
with the excesses of the day, threw himself upon a bed; Lorenzino went
out of the room, ostensibly to fetch his kinswoman, Caterina Ginori,
whose beauty had been the bait; and he returned with the bravo
Scoroncocolo, with whose assistance he assassinated him. Those who saw
Sarah Bernhardt in the part of "Lorenzaccio," will not easily forget
her rendering of this scene. Lorenzino published an Apologia, in which
he enumerates Alessandro's crimes, declares that he was no true
offspring of the Medici, and that his own single motive was the
liberation of Florence from tyranny. He fled first to Constantinople,
and then to Venice, where he was murdered in 1547 by the agents of
Alessandro's successor, Cosimo I., who transferred the ducal residence
from the present palace first to the Palazzo Vecchio, and then across
the river to the Pitti Palace.

With the exception of the chapel, the interior of the Palazzo Riccardi
is not very suggestive of the old Medicean glories of the days of
Lorenzo the Magnificent. There is a fine court, surrounded with
sarcophagi and statues, including some of the old tombs which stood
round the Baptistery and among which Guido Cavalcanti used to linger,
and some statues of Apostles from the second façade of the Duomo.
Above the arcades are eight fine classical medallions by Donatello,
copied and enlarged from antique gems. The rooms above have been
entirely altered since the days when Capponi defied King Charles, and
Madonna Clarice taunted Alessandro and Ippolito; the large gallery,
which witnessed these scenes, is covered with frescoes by Luca
Giordano, executed in the early part of the seventeenth century. The
Chapel--still entirely reminiscent of the better Medici--was painted
by Benozzo Gozzoli shortly before the death of Cosimo the Elder, with
frescoes representing the Procession of the Magi, in a delightfully
impossible landscape. The two older kings are the Patriarch Joseph of
Constantinople, and John Paleologus, Emperor of the East, who had
visited Florence twenty years before on the occasion of the Council
(Benozzo, it must be observed, was painting them in 1459, after the
fall of Constantinople); the third is Lorenzo dei Medici himself, as a
boy. Behind follow the rest of the Medicean court, Cosimo himself and
his son, Piero, content apparently to be led forward by this mere lad;
and in their train is Benozzo Gozzoli himself, marked by the signature
on his hat. The picture of the Nativity itself, round which Benozzo's
lovely Angels--though very earthly compared with Angelico's--seem
still to linger in attendance, is believed to have been one by Lippo
Lippi, now at Berlin.

In the chapter _Of the Superhuman Ideal_, in the second volume of
_Modern Painters_, Ruskin refers to these frescoes as the most
beautiful instance of the supernatural landscapes of the early
religious painters:--

"Behind the adoring angel groups, the landscape is governed by the
most absolute symmetry; roses, and pomegranates, their leaves drawn to
the last rib and vein, twine themselves in fair and perfect order
about delicate trellises; broad stone pines and tall cypresses
overshadow them, bright birds hover here and there in the serene sky,
and groups of angels, hand joined with hand, and wing with wing, glide
and float through the glades of the unentangled forest. But behind the
human figures, behind the pomp and turbulence of the kingly procession
descending from the distant hills, the spirit of the landscape is
changed. Severer mountains rise in the distance, ruder prominences
and less flowery vary the nearer ground, and gloomy shadows remain
unbroken beneath the forest branches."

Among the manuscripts in the _Biblioteca Riccardiana_, which is
entered from the Via Ginori at the back of the palace, is the most
striking and plausible of all existing portraits of Dante. It is at
the beginning of a codex of the Canzoni (numbered 1040), and appears
to have been painted about 1436.

From the palace where the elder Medici lived, we turn to the church
where they, and their successors of the younger line, lie in death. In
the Piazza San Lorenzo there is an inane statue of the father of
Cosimo I., Giovanni delle Bande Nere, by Baccio Bandinelli. Here, in
June 1865, Robert Browning picked up at a stall the "square old yellow
Book" with "the crumpled vellum covers," which gave him the story of
_The Ring and the Book_:--

                     "I found this book,
     Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
     (Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
     Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
     One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
     Across a square in Florence, crammed with booths,
     Buzzing and blaze, noon-tide and market-time,
     Toward Baccio's marble--ay, the basement ledge
     O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
     John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
     'Twixt palace and church--Riccardi where they lived,
     His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.

                     "That memorable day,
     (June was the month, Lorenzo named the Square)
     I leaned a little and overlooked my prize
     By the low railing round the fountain-source
     Close to the statue, where a step descends:
     While clinked the cans of copper, as stooped and rose
     Thick-ankled girls who brimmed them, and made place
     For market men glad to pitch basket down,
     Dip a broad melon-leaf that holds the wet,
     And whisk their faded fresh."

  [Illustration: THE TOMB OF GIOVANNI AND PIERO DEI MEDICI
  BY ANDREA VERROCCHIO
  (In San Lorenzo)]

The unsightly bare front of San Lorenzo represents several fruitless
and miserable years of Michelangelo's life. Pope Leo X. and the
Cardinal Giulio dei Medici commissioned him to make a new façade, in
1516, and for some years he consumed his time labouring among the
quarries of Carrara and Pietrasanta, getting the marble for it and for
the statues with which it was to be adorned. In one of his letters he
says: "I am perfectly disposed (_a me basta l'animo_) to make this
work of the façade of San Lorenzo so that, both in architecture and in
sculpture, it shall be the mirror of all Italy; but the Pope and the
Cardinal must decide quickly, if they want me to do it or not"; and
again, some time later: "What I have promised to do, I shall do by all
means, and I shall make the most beautiful work that was ever made in
Italy, if God helps me." But nothing came of it all; and in after
years Michelangelo bitterly declared that Leo had only pretended that
he wanted the façade finished, in order to prevent him working upon
the tomb of Pope Julius.

"The ancient Ambrosian Basilica of St. Lawrence," founded according to
tradition by a Florentine widow named Giuliana, and consecrated by St.
Ambrose in the days of Zenobius, was entirely destroyed by fire early
in the fifteenth century, during a solemn service ordered by the
Signoria to invoke the protection of St. Ambrose for the Florentines
in their war against Filippo Maria Visconti. Practically the only
relic of this Basilica is the miraculous image of the Madonna in the
right transept. The present church was erected from the designs of
Filippo Brunelleschi, at the cost of the Medici (especially Giovanni
di Averardo, who may be regarded as its chief founder) and seven other
Florentine families. It is simple and harmonious in structure; the
cupola, which is so visible in distant views of Florence, looking
like a smaller edition of the Duomo, unlike the latter, rests directly
upon the cross. This appears to be one of the modifications from what
Brunelleschi had intended.

The two pulpits with their bronze reliefs, right and left, are the
last works of Donatello; they were executed in part and finished by
his pupil, Bertoldo. The marble singing gallery in the left aisle
(near a fresco of the martyrdom of St. Lawrence, by Bronzino) is also
the joint work of Donatello and Bertoldo. In the right transept is a
marble tabernacle by Donatello's great pupil, Desiderio da Settignano.
Beneath a porphyry slab in front of the choir, Cosimo the Elder, the
Pater Patriae, lies; Donatello is buried in the same vault as his
great patron and friend. In the Martelli Chapel, on the left, is an
exceedingly beautiful Annunciation by Fra Filippo Lippi, a fine
example of his colouring (in which he is decidedly the best of all the
early Florentines); Gabriel is attended by two minor Angels, squires
waiting upon this great Prince of the Archangelic order, who are full
of that peculiar mixture of boyish high spirits and religious
sentiment which gives a special charm of its own to all that Lippo
does.

The _Sagrestia Vecchia_, founded by Giovanni di Averardo, was erected
by Brunelleschi and decorated by Donatello for Cosimo the Elder. In
the centre is the marble sarcophagus, adorned with _putti_ and
festoons, containing the remains of Giovanni and his wife Piccarda,
Cosimo's father and mother, by Donatello. The bronze doors (hardly
among his best works), the marble balustrade before the altar, the
stucco medallions of the Evangelists, the reliefs of patron saints of
the Medici and the frieze of Angels' heads are all Donatello's; also
an exceedingly beautiful terracotta bust of St. Lawrence, which is one
of his most attractive creations. In the niche on the left of the
entrance is the simple but very beautiful tomb of the two sons of
Cosimo, Piero and Giovanni--who are united also in Botticelli's
Adoration of the Magi as the two kings--and it serves also as a
monument to Cosimo himself; it was made by Andrea Verrocchio for
Lorenzo and Giuliano, Piero's sons. The remains of Lorenzo and
Giuliano rested together in this sacristy until they were translated
in the sixteenth century. In spite of a misleading modern inscription,
they were apparently not buried in their father's grave, and the
actual site of their former tomb is unknown. They now lie together in
the _Sagrestia Nuova_. The simplicity of these funereal monuments and
the _pietàs_ which united the members of the family so closely, in
death and in life alike, are very characteristic of these earlier
Medicean rulers of Florence.

The cloisters of San Lorenzo, haunted by needy and destitute cats,
were also designed by Brunelleschi. To the right, after passing
Francesco da San Gallo's statue of Paolo Giovio, the historian, who
died in 1559, is the entrance to the famous Biblioteca Laurenziana.
The nucleus of this library was the collection of codices formed by
Niccolò Niccoli, which were afterwards purchased by Cosimo the Elder,
and still more largely increased by Lorenzo the Magnificent; after the
expulsion of Piero the younger, they were bought by the Friars of San
Marco, and then from them by the Cardinal Giovanni, who transferred
them to the Medicean villa at Rome. In accordance with Pope Leo's
wish, Clement VII. (then the Cardinal Giulio) brought them back to
Florence, and, when Pope, commissioned Michelangelo to design the
building that was to house them. The portico, vestibule and staircase
were designed by him, and, in judging of their effect, it must be
remembered that Michelangelo professed that architecture was not his
business, and also that the vestibule and staircase were intended to
have been adorned with bronzes and statues. It was commenced in 1524,
before the siege. Of the numberless precious manuscripts which this
collection contains, we will mention only two classical and one
mediæval; the famous Pandects of Justinian which the Pisans took from
Amalfi, and the Medicean Virgil of the fourth or fifth century; and
Boccaccio's autograph manuscript of Dante's Eclogues and Epistles.
This latter codex, shown under the glass at the entrance to the
Rotunda, is the only manuscript in existence which contains Dante's
Epistles to the Italian Cardinals and to a Florentine Friend. In the
first, he defines his attitude towards the Church, and declares that
he is not touching the Ark, but merely turning to the kicking oxen who
are dragging it out of the right path; in the second, he proudly
proclaims his innocence, rejects the amnesty, and refuses to return to
Florence under dishonourable conditions. Although undoubtedly in
Boccaccio's handwriting, it has been much disputed of late years as to
whether these two letters are really by Dante. There is not a single
autograph manuscript, nor a single scrap of Dante's handwriting extant
at the present day.

       *       *       *       *       *

From the Piazza Madonna, at the back of San Lorenzo, we enter a chilly
vestibule, the burial vault of less important members of the families
of the Medicean Grand Dukes, and ascend to the _Sagrestia Nuova_,
where the last male descendants of Cosimo the Elder and Lorenzo the
Magnificent lie. Although the idea of adding some such mausoleum to
San Lorenzo appears to have originated with Leo X., this New Sacristy
was built by Michelangelo for Clement VII., commenced while he was
still the Cardinal Giulio and finished in 1524, before the Library
was constructed. Its form was intended to correspond with that of
Brunelleschi's Old Sacristy, and it was to contain four sepulchral
monuments. Two of these, the only two that were actually constructed,
were for the younger Lorenzo, titular Duke of Urbino (who died in
1519, the son of Piero and nephew of Pope Leo), and the younger
Giuliano, Duke of Nemours (who died in 1516, the third son of the
Magnificent and younger brother of Leo). It is not quite certain for
whom the other two monuments were to have been, but it is most
probable that they were for the fathers of the two Medicean Popes,
Lorenzo the Magnificent and his brother the elder Giuliano, whose
remains were translated hither by Duke Cosimo I. and rediscovered a
few years ago. Michelangelo commenced the statues before the third
expulsion of the Medici, worked on them in secret while he was
fortifying Florence against Pope Clement before the siege, and
returned to them, after the downfall of the Republic, as the condition
of obtaining the Pope's pardon. He resumed work, full of bitterness at
the treacherous overthrow of the Republic, tormented by the heirs of
Pope Julius II., whose tomb he had been forced to abandon, suffering
from insomnia and shattered health, threatened with death by the
tyrant Alessandro. When he left Florence finally in 1534, just before
the death of Clement, the statues had not even been put into their
places.

Neither of the ducal statues is a portrait, but they appear to
represent the active and contemplative lives, like the Leah and Rachel
on the tomb of Pope Julius II. at Rome. On the right sits Giuliano,
holding the baton of command as Gonfaloniere of the Church. His
handsome sensual features to some extent recall those of the
victorious youth in the allegory in the Bargello. He holds his baton
somewhat loosely, as though he half realised the baseness of the
historical part he was doomed to play, and had not got his heart in
it. Opposite is Lorenzo, immersed in profound thought, "ghastly as a
tyrant's dream." What visions are haunting him of the sack of Prato,
of the atrocities of the barbarian hordes in the Eternal City, of the
doom his house has brought upon Florence? Does he already smell the
blood that his daughter will shed, fifty years later, on St.
Bartholomew's day? Here he sits, as Elizabeth Barrett Browning puts
it:--

     "With everlasting shadow on his face,
       While the slow dawns and twilights disapprove
      The ashes of his long extinguished race,
       Which never more shall clog the feet of men."

"It fascinates and is intolerable," as Rogers wrote of this statue. It
is, probably, not due to Michelangelo that the niches in which the
dukes sit are too narrow for them; but the result is to make the
tyrants seem as helpless as their victims, in the fetters of destiny.
Beneath them are four tremendous and terrible allegorical figures:
"those four ineffable types," writes Ruskin, "not of darkness nor of
day--not of morning nor evening, but of the departure and the
resurrection, the twilight and the dawn of the souls of men." Beneath
Lorenzo are Dawn and Twilight; Dawn awakes in agony, but her most
horrible dreams are better than the reality which she must face;
Twilight has worked all day in vain, and, like a helpless Titan, is
sinking now into a slumber where is no repose. Beneath Giuliano are
Day and Night: Day is captive and unable to rise, his mighty powers
are uselessly wasted and he glares defiance; Night is buried in
torturing dreams, but Michelangelo has forbidden us to wake her:--

     "Grato mi è il sonno, e più l'esser di sasso;
     mentre che il danno e la vergogna dura,
     non veder, non sentir, m'è gran ventura;
     però non mi destar; deh, parla basso!"[45]

  [45] "Grateful to me is sleep, and more the being stone; while ruin
  and shame last, not to see, not to feel, is great good fortune to me.
  Therefore wake me not; ah, speak low!"

It will be remembered that it was for these two young men, to whom
Michelangelo has thus reared the noblest sepulchral monuments of the
modern world, that Leo X. desired to build kingdoms and that
Machiavelli wrote one of the masterpieces of Italian prose--the
_Principe_. Giuliano was the most respectable of the elder Medicean
line; in Castiglione's _Cortigiano_ he is an attractive figure, the
chivalrous champion of women. It is not easy to get a definite idea of
the character of Lorenzo, who, as we saw in chapter iv., was virtually
tyrant of Florence during his uncle's pontificate. The Venetian
ambassador once wrote of him that he was fitted for great deeds, and
only a little inferior to Cæsar Borgia--which was intended for very
high praise; but there was nothing in him to deserve either
Michelangelo's monument or Machiavelli's dedication. He usurped the
Duchy of Urbino, and spent his last days in fooling with a jester. His
reputed son, the foul Duke Alessandro, lies buried with him here in
the same coffin.

Opposite the altar is the Madonna and Child, by Michelangelo. The
Madonna is one of the noblest and most beautiful of all the master's
works, but the Child, whom Florence had once chosen for her King, has
turned His face away from the city. A few years later, and Cosimo I.
will alter the inscription which Niccolò Capponi had set up on the
Palazzo Vecchio. The patron saints of the Medici on either side, Sts.
Cosmas and Damian, are by Michelangelo's pupils and assistants, Fra
Giovanni Angiolo da Montorsoli and Raffaello da Montelupo. Beneath
these statues lie Lorenzo the Magnificent and his brother, the elder
Giuliano. Their bodies were removed hither from the Old Sacristy in
1559, and the question as to their place of burial was finally set at
rest, in October 1895, by the discovery of their bodies. It is
probable that Michelangelo had originally intended the Madonna for the
tomb of his first patron, Lorenzo.

In judging of the general effect of this _Sagrestia Nuova_, which is
certainly somewhat cold, it must be remembered that Michelangelo
intended it to be full of statues and that the walls were to have been
covered with paintings. "Its justification," says Addington Symonds,
"lies in the fact that it demanded statuary and colour for its
completion." The vault was frescoed by Giovanni da Udine, but is now
whitewashed. In 1562, Vasari wrote to Michelangelo at Rome on behalf
of Duke Cosimo, telling him that "the place is being now used for
religious services by day and night, according to the intentions of
Pope Clement," and that the Duke was anxious that all the best
sculptors and painters of the newly instituted Academy should work
upon the Sacristy and finish it from Michelangelo's designs. "He
intends," writes Vasari, "that the new Academicians shall complete the
whole imperfect scheme, in order that the world may see that, while so
many men of genius still exist among us, the noblest work which was
ever yet conceived on earth has not been left unfinished." And the
Duke wants to know what Michelangelo's own idea is about the statues
and paintings; "He is particularly anxious that you should be assured
of his determination to alter nothing you have already done or
planned, but, on the contrary, to carry out the whole work according
to your conception. The Academicians, too, are unanimous in their
hearty desire to abide by this decision."[46]

  [46] Given in Addington Symonds' _Life of Michelangelo_.

In the _Cappella dei Principi_, gorgeous with its marbles and mosaics,
lie the sovereigns of the younger line, the Medicean Grand Dukes of
Tuscany, the descendants of the great captain Giovanni delle Bande
Nere. Here are the sepulchral monuments of Cosimo I. (1537-1574); of
his sons, Francesco (1574-1587) and Ferdinand I. (1587-1609); and of
Ferdinand's son, grandson and great-grandson, Cosimo II. (1609-1621),
Ferdinand II. (1627-1670), Cosimo III. (1670-1723). The statues are
those of Ferdinand I. and Cosimo II.

Cosimo I. finally transformed the republic into a monarchy, created a
new aristocracy and established a small standing army, though he
mainly relied upon Spanish and German mercenaries. He conquered Siena
in 1553, and in 1570 was invested with the grand ducal crown by Pius
V.--a title which the Emperor confirmed to his successor. Although the
tragedy which tradition has hung round the end of the Duchess Eleonora
and her two sons has not stood the test of historical criticism, there
are plenty of bloody deeds to be laid to Duke Cosimo's account during
his able and ruthless reign. Towards the close of his life he married
his mistress, Cammilla Martelli, and made over the government to his
son. This son, Francesco, the founder of the Uffizi Gallery and of the
modern city of Leghorn, had more than his father's vices and hardly
any of his ability; his intrigue with the beautiful Venetian, Bianca
Cappello, whom he afterwards married, and who died with him, has
excited more interest than it deserves. The Cardinal Ferdinand, who
succeeded him and renounced the cardinalate, was incomparably the best
of the house--a man of magnanimous character and an enlightened
ruler. He shook off the influence of Spain, and built an excellent
navy to make war upon the Turks and Barbary corsairs. Cosimo II. and
Ferdinand II. reigned quietly and benevolently, with no ability but
with plenty of good intentions. Chiabrera sings their praises with
rather unnecessary fervour. But the wealth and prosperity of Tuscany
was waning, and Cosimo III., a luxurious and selfish bigot, could do
nothing to arrest the decay. On the death of his miserable and
contemptible successor, Gian Gastone dei Medici in 1737, the Medicean
dynasty was at an end.

Stretching along a portion of the Via Larga, and near the Piazza di
San Marco, were the famous gardens of the Medici, which the people
sacked in 1494 on the expulsion of Piero. The Casino Mediceo, built by
Buontalenti in 1576, marks the site. Here were placed some of
Lorenzo's antique statues and curios; and here Bertoldo had his great
art school, where the most famous painters and sculptors came to bask
in the sun of Medicean patronage, and to copy the antique. Here the
boy Michelangelo came with his friend Granacci, and here Andrea
Verrocchio first trained the young Leonardo. In this garden, too,
Angelo Poliziano walked with his pupils, and initiated Michelangelo
into the newly revived Hellenic culture. There is nothing now to
recall these past glories.

  [Illustration: THE WELL OF S. MARCO]

The church of San Marco has been frequently altered and modernised,
and there is little now to remind us that it was here on August 1,
1489, that Savonarola began to expound the Apocalypse. Over the
entrance is a Crucifix ascribed by Vasari to Giotto. On the second
altar to the right is a much-damaged but authentic Madonna and Saints
by Fra Bartolommeo; that on the opposite altar, on the left, is a
copy of the original now in the Pitti Palace. There are some
picturesque bits of old fourteenth century frescoes on the left wall,
and beneath them, between the second and third altars, lie Pico della
Mirandola and his friend Girolamo Benivieni, and Angelo Poliziano. The
left transept contains the tomb and shrine of St Antoninus, the good
Dominican Archbishop of Florence, with statues by Giovanni da Bologna
and his followers, and later frescoes. In the sacristy, which was
designed by Brunelleschi, there is a fine bronze recumbent statue of
him. Antoninus was Prior of San Marco in the days of Angelico, and
Vasari tells us that when Angelico went to Rome, to paint for Pope
Eugenius, the Pope wished to make the painter Archbishop of Florence:
"When the said friar heard this, he besought his Holiness to find
somebody else, because he did not feel himself apt to govern people;
but that since his Order had a friar who loved the poor, who was most
learned and fit for rule, and who feared God, this dignity would be
much better conferred upon him than on himself. The Pope, hearing
this, and bethinking him that what he said was true, granted his
request freely; and so Fra Antonino was made Archbishop of Florence,
of the Order of Preachers, a man truly most illustrious for sanctity
and learning."

It was in the church of San Marco that Savonarola celebrated Mass on
the day of the Ordeal; here the women waited and prayed, while the
procession set forth; and hither the Dominicans returned at evening,
amidst the howls and derision of the crowd. Here, on the next evening,
the fiercest of the fighting took place. The attempt of the enemy to
break into the church by the sacristy door was repulsed. One of the
Panciatichi, a mere boy, mortally wounded, joyfully received the last
sacraments from Fra Domenico on the steps of the altar, and died in
such bliss, that the rest envied him. Finally the great door of the
church was broken down; Fra Enrico, a German, mounted the pulpit and
fired again and again into the midst of the Compagnacci, shouting with
each shot, _Salvum fac populum tuum, Domine_. Driven from the pulpit,
he and other friars planted their arquebusses beneath the Crucifix on
the high altar, and continued to fire. The church was now so full of
smoke that the friars could hardly continue the defence, until Fra
Giovacchino della Robbia broke one of the windows with a lance. At
last, when the Signoria threatened to destroy the whole convent with
artillery, Savonarola ordered the friars to go in procession from the
church to the dormitory, and himself, taking the Blessed Sacrament
from the altar, slowly followed them.

The convent itself, now officially the _Museo di San Marco_,
originally a house of Silvestrine monks, was made over to the
Dominicans by Pope Eugenius IV., at the instance of Cosimo dei Medici
and his brother Lorenzo. They solemnly took possession in 1436, and
Michelozzo entirely rebuilt the whole convent for them, mainly at the
cost of Cosimo, between 1437 and 1452. "It is believed," says Vasari,
"to be the best conceived and the most beautiful and commodious
convent of any in Italy, thanks to the virtue and industry of
Michelozzo." Fra Giovanni da Fiesole, as the Beato Angelico was
called, came from his Fiesolan convent, and worked simultaneously with
Michelozzo for about eight or nine years (until the Pope summoned him
to Rome in 1445 to paint in the Vatican), covering with his mystical
dreams the walls that his friend designed. That other artistic glory
of the Dominicans, Fra Bartolommeo, took the habit here in 1500,
though there are now only a few unimportant works of his remaining in
the convent. Never was there such a visible outpouring of the praying
heart in painting, as in the work of these two friars. And Antoninus
and Savonarola strove to make the spirit world that they painted a
living reality, for Florence and for the Church.

The first cloister is surrounded by later frescoes, scenes from the
life of St. Antoninus, partly by Bernardino Poccetti and Matteo
Rosselli, at the beginning of the seventeenth century. They are not of
great artistic value, but one, the fifth on the right of the entrance,
representing the entry of St. Antoninus into Florence, shows the old
façade of the Duomo. Like gems in this rather indifferent setting, are
five exquisite frescoes by Angelico in lunettes over the doors; St.
Thomas Aquinas, Christ as a pilgrim received by two Dominican friars,
Christ in the tomb, St. Dominic (spoilt), St. Peter Martyr; also a
larger fresco of St. Dominic at the foot of the Cross. The second of
these, symbolising the hospitality of the convent rule, is one of
Angelico's masterpieces; beneath it is the entrance to the Foresteria,
the guest-chambers. Under the third lunette we pass into the great
Refectory, with its customary pulpit for the novice reader: here,
instead of the usual Last Supper, is a striking fresco of St. Dominic
and his friars miraculously fed by Angels, painted in 1536 by Giovanni
Antonio Sogliani (a pupil of Lorenzo di Credi); the Crucifixion above,
with St. Catherine of Siena and St. Antoninus, is said to be by Fra
Bartolommeo. Here, too, on the right is the original framework by
Jacopo di Bartolommeo da Sete and Simone da Fiesole, executed in 1433,
for Angelico's great tabernacle now in the Uffizi.

Angelico's St. Dominic appropriately watches over the Chapter House,
which contains the largest of Fra Giovanni's frescoes and one of the
greatest masterpieces of religious art: the Crucifixion with the
patron saints of Florence, of the convent, and of the Medici, the
founders of the religious orders, the representatives of the zeal and
learning of the Dominicans, all gathered and united in contemplation
around the Cross of Christ. It was ordered by Cosimo dei Medici, and
painted about 1441. On our left are the Madonna, supported by the
Magdalene, the other Mary, and the beloved Disciple; the Baptist and
St. Mark, representing the city and the convent; St. Lawrence and St.
Cosmas (said by Vasari to be a portrait of Nanni di Banco, who died
twenty years before), and St. Damian. On our right, kneeling at the
foot of the Cross, is St. Dominic, a masterpiece of expression and
sentiment; behind him St. Augustine and St. Albert of Jerusalem
represent Augustinians and Carmelites; St. Jerome, St. Francis, St.
Bernard, St. John Gualbert kneel; St. Benedict and St. Romuald stand
behind them, while at the end are St. Peter Martyr and St. Thomas
Aquinas. All the male heads are admirably characterised and
discriminated, unlike Angelico's women, who are usually either merely
conventionally done or idealised into Angels. Round the picture is a
frieze of prophets, culminating in the mystical Pelican; below is the
great tree of the Dominican order, spreading out from St. Dominic
himself in the centre, with Popes Innocent V. and Benedict XI. on
either hand. The St. Antoninus was added later. Vasari tells us that,
in this tree, the brothers of the order assisted Angelico by obtaining
portraits of the various personages represented from different places;
and they may therefore be regarded as the real, or traditional,
likenesses of the great Dominicans. The same probably applies to the
wonderful figure of Aquinas in the picture itself.

Beyond is a second and larger cloister, surrounded by very inferior
frescoes of the life of St. Dominic, full of old armorial bearings and
architectural fragments arranged rather incongruously. Some of the
lunettes over the cells contain frescoes of the school of Fra
Bartolommeo. The Academy of the Crusca is established here, in what
was once the dormitory of the Novices. Connected with this cloister
was the convent garden. "In the summer time," writes Simone Filipepi,
"in the evening after supper, the Father Fra Girolamo used to walk
with his friars in the garden, and he would make them all sit round
him with the Bible in his hand, and here he expounded to them some
fair passage of the Scriptures, sometimes questioning some novice or
other, as occasion arose. At these meetings there gathered also some
fifty or sixty learned laymen, for their edification. When, by reason
of rain or other cause, it was not possible in the garden, they went
into the _hospitium_ to do the same; and for an hour or two one seemed
verily to be in Paradise, such charity and devotion and simplicity
appeared in all. Blessed was he who could be there." Shortly before
the Ordeal of Fire, Fra Girolamo was walking in the garden with Fra
Placido Cinozzi, when an exceedingly beautiful boy of noble family
came to him with a ticket upon which was written his name, offering
himself to pass through the flames. And thinking that this might not
be sufficient, he fell upon his knees, begging the Friar that he might
be allowed to undergo the ordeal for him. "Rise up, my son," said
Savonarola, "for this thy good will is wondrously pleasing unto God";
and, when the boy had gone, he turned to Fra Placido and said: "From
many persons have I had these applications, but from none have I
received so much joy as from this child, for which may God be
praised."

To the left of the staircase to the upper floor, is the smaller
refectory with a fresco of the Last Supper by Domenico Ghirlandaio,
not by any means one of the painter's best works.

On the top of the stairs we are initiated into the spirit of the place
by Angelico's most beautiful Annunciation, with its inscription,
_Virginis intacte cum veneris ante figuram, pretereundo cave ne
sileatur Ave_, "When thou shalt have come before the image of the
spotless Virgin, beware lest by negligence the Ave be silent."

On the left of the stairway a double series of cells on either side of
the corridor leads us to Savonarola's room. At the head of the
corridor is one of those representations that Angelico repeated so
often, usually with modifications, of St. Dominic at the foot of the
Cross. Each of the cells has a painted lyric of the life of Christ and
His mother, from Angelico's hand; almost each scene with Dominican
witnesses and auditors introduced,--Dominic, Aquinas, Peter Martyr, as
the case may be. In these frescoes Angelico was undoubtedly assisted
by pupils, from whom a few of the less excellent scenes may come;
there is an interesting, but altogether untrustworthy tradition that
some were executed by his brother, Fra Benedetto da Mugello, who took
the Dominican habit simultaneously with him and was Prior of the
convent at Fiesole. Taking the cells on the left first, we see the
_Noli me tangere_ (1), the Entombment (2), the Annunciation (3), the
Crucifixion (4), the Nativity (5), the Transfiguration (6), a most
wonderful picture. Opposite the Transfiguration, on the right wall of
the corridor, is a Madonna and Saints, painted by the Friar somewhat
later than the frescoes in the cells (which, it should be observed,
appear to have been painted on the walls before the cells were
actually partitioned off)--St. John Evangelist and St. Mark, the three
great Dominicans and the patrons of the Medici. Then, on the left, the
following cells contain the Mocking of Christ (7), the Resurrection
with the Maries at the tomb (8), the Coronation of the Madonna (9),
one of the grandest of the whole series, with St. Dominic and St.
Francis kneeling below, and behind them St. Benedict and St. Thomas
Aquinas, St. Peter Martyr and St. Paul the Hermit. The Presentation in
the Temple (10), and the Madonna and Child with Aquinas and Augustine
(11), are inferior to the rest.

The shorter passage now turns to the cells occupied by Fra Girolamo
Savonarola; one large cell leading into two smaller ones (12-14). In
the larger are placed three frescoes by Fra Bartolommeo; Christ and
the two disciples at Emmaus, formerly over the doorway of the
refectory, and two Madonnas--one from the Dominican convent in the
Mugnone being especially beautiful. Here are also modern busts of
Savonarola by Dupré and Benivieni by Bastianini. In the first inner
cell are Savonarola's portrait, apparently copied from a medal and
wrongly ascribed to Bartolommeo, his Crucifix and his relics, his
manuscripts and books of devotion, and, in another case, his hair
shirt and rosary, his beloved Dominican garb which he gave up on the
day of his martyrdom. In the inmost cell are the Cross which he is
said to have carried, and a copy of the old (but not contemporary)
picture of his death, of which the original is in the Corsini Palace.

The seven small cells on the right (15-21) were assigned to the
Juniors, the younger friars who had just passed through the Noviciate.
Each contains a fresco by Angelico of St. Dominic at the foot of the
Cross, now scourging himself, now absorbed in contemplation, now
covering his face with his hands, but in no two cases identical. Into
one of these cells a divine apparition was said to have come to one of
these youths, after hearing Savonarola's "most fervent and most
wondrous discourse" upon the mystery of the Incarnation. The story is
told by Simone Filipepi:--

"On the night of the most Holy Nativity, to a young friar in the
convent, who had not yet sung Mass, had appeared visibly in his cell
on the little altar, whilst he was engaged in prayer, Our Lord in the
form of a little infant even as when He was born in the stable. And
when the hour came to go into the choir for matins, the said friar
commenced to debate in his mind whether he ought to go and leave here
the Holy Child, and deprive himself of such sweetness, or not. At last
he resolved to go and to bear It with him; so, having wrapped It up in
his arms and under his cowl as best he could, all trembling with joy
and with fear, he went down into the choir without telling anyone.
But, when it came to his turn to sing a lesson, whilst he approached
the reading-desk, the Infant vanished from his arms; and when the
friar was aware of this, he remained so overwhelmed and almost beside
himself that he commenced to wander through the choir, like one who
seeks a thing lost, so that it was necessary that another should read
that lesson."

Passing back again down the corridor, we see in the cells two more
Crucifixions (22 and 23); the Baptism of Christ with Madonna as
witness (24), the Crucifixion (25); then, passing the great Madonna
fresco, the Mystery of the Passion (26), in one of those symbolical
representations which seem to have originated with the Camaldolese
painter, Don Lorenzo; Christ bound to the pillar, with St. Dominic
scourging himself and the Madonna appealing to us (27, perhaps by a
pupil); Christ bearing the Cross (28); two more Crucifixions (29 and
30), apparently not executed by Angelico himself.

At the side of Angelico's Annunciation opposite the stairs, we enter
the cell of St. Antoninus (31). Here is one of Angelico's most
beautiful and characteristic frescoes, Christ's descent into Hades:
"the intense, fixed, statue-like silence of ineffable adoration upon
the spirits in prison at the feet of Christ, side by side, the hands
lifted and the knees bowed, and the lips trembling together," as
Ruskin describes it. Here, too, is the death mask of Antoninus, his
portrait perhaps drawn from the death mask by Bartolommeo, his
manuscripts and relics; also a tree of saintly Dominicans, Savonarola
being on the main trunk, the third from the root.

The next cell on the right (32) has the Sermon on the Mount and the
Temptation in the Wilderness. In the following (33), also double,
besides the frescoed Kiss of Judas, are two minute pictures by Fra
Angelico, belonging to an earlier stage of his art than the frescoes,
intended for reliquaries and formerly in Santa Maria Novella. One of
them, the _Madonna della Stella_, is a very perfect and typical
example of the Friar's smaller works, in their "purity of colour
almost shadowless." The other, the Coronation of the Madonna, is less
excellent and has suffered from retouching. The Agony in the Garden
(in cell 34) contains a curious piece of mediæval symbolism in the
presence of Mary and Martha, contemplation and action, the Mary being
here the Blessed Virgin. In the same cell is another of the
reliquaries from Santa Maria Novella, the Annunciation over the
Adoration of the Magi, with Madonna and Child, the Virgin Martyrs, the
Magdalene and St. Catherine of Siena below; the drawing is rather
faulty. In the following cells are the Last Supper (35), conceived
mystically as the institution of the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar,
with the Madonna alone as witness; the Deposition from the Cross (36);
and the Crucifixion (37), in which Dominic stands with out-stretched
arms.

Opposite on the right (38-39) is the great cell where Pope Eugenius
stayed on the occasion of the consecration of San Marco in 1442; here
Cosimo the Elder, Pater Patriae, spent long hours of his closing days,
in spiritual intercourse with St. Antoninus and after the latter's
death. In the outer compartment the Medicean saint, Cosmas, joins
Madonna and Peter Martyr at the foot of the Cross. Within are the
Adoration of the Magi and a Pietà, both from Angelico's hand, and the
former, one of his latest masterpieces, probably painted with
reference to the fact that the convent had been consecrated on the
Feast of the Epiphany. Here, too, is an old terracotta bust of
Antoninus, and a splendid but damaged picture of Cosimo himself by
Jacopo da Pontormo, incomparably finer than that artist's similarly
constructed work in the Uffizi. Between two smaller cells containing
Crucifixions, both apparently by Angelico himself (42-43--the former
with the Mary and Martha motive at the foot of the Cross), is the
great Greek Library, built by Michelozzo for Cosimo. Here Cosimo
deposited a portion of the manuscripts which had been collected by
Niccolò Niccoli, with additions of his own, and it became the first
public library in Italy. Its shelves are now empty and bare, but it
contains a fine collection of illuminated ritual books from suppressed
convents, several of which are, rather doubtfully, ascribed to
Angelico's brother, Fra Benedetto da Mugello.

It was in this library that Savonarola exercised for the last time his
functions of Prior of San Marco, and surrendered to the commissioners
of the Signoria, on the night of Palm Sunday, 1498. What happened had
best be told in the words of the Padre Pacifico Burlamacchi of the
same convent, Savonarola's contemporary and follower. After several
fictitious summonses had come:--

"They returned at last with the decree of the Signoria in writing, but
with the open promise that Fra Girolamo should be restored safe and
sound, together with his companions. When he heard this, he told them
that he would obey. But first he retired with his friars into the
Greek Library, where he made them in Latin a most beautiful sermon,
exhorting them to follow onwards in the way of God with faith, prayer,
and patience; telling them that it was necessary to go to heaven by
the way of tribulations, and that therefore they ought not in any way
to be terrified; alleging many old examples of the ingratitude of the
city of Florence in return for the benefits received from their Order.
As that of St. Peter Martyr who, after doing so many marvellous things
in Florence, was slain, the Florentines paying the price of his blood.
And of St. Catherine of Siena, whom many had sought to kill, after she
had borne so many labours for them, going personally to Avignon to
plead their cause before the Pope. Nor had less happened to St.
Antoninus, their Archbishop and excellent Pastor, whom they had once
wished to throw from the windows. And that it was no marvel, if he
also, after such sorrows and labourings, was paid at the end in the
same coin. But that he was ready to receive everything with desire and
happiness for the love of his Lord, knowing that in nought else
consisted the Christian life, save in doing good and suffering evil.
And thus, while all the bye-standers wept, he finished his sermon.
Then, issuing forth from the library, he said to those laymen who
awaited him: 'I will say to you what Jeremiah said: This thing I
expected, but not so soon nor so suddenly.' He exhorted them further
to live well and to be fervent in prayer. And having confessed to the
Father Fra Domenico da Pescia, he took the Communion in the first
library. And the same did Fra Domenico. After eating a little, he was
somewhat refreshed; and he spoke the last words to his friars,
exhorting them to persevere in religion, and kissing them all, he took
his last departure from them. In the parting one of his children said
to him: 'Father, why dost thou abandon us and leave us so desolate?'
To which he replied: 'Son, have patience, God will help you'; and he
added that he would either see them again alive, or that after death
he would appear to them without fail. Also, as he departed, he gave up
the common keys to the brethren, with so great humility and charity,
that the friars could not keep themselves from tears; and many of them
wished by all means to go with him. At last, recommending himself to
their prayers, he made his way towards the door of the library, where
the first Commissioners all armed were awaiting him; to whom, giving
himself into their hands like a most meek lamb, he said: 'I recommend
to you this my flock and all these other citizens.' And when he was in
the corridor of the library, he said: 'My friars, doubt not, for God
will not fail to perfect His work; and although I be put to death, I
shall help you more than I have done in life, and I will return
without fail to console you, either dead or alive.' Arrived at the
holy water, which is at the exit of the choir, Fra Domenico said to
him: 'Fain would I too come to these nuptials.' Certain of the laymen,
his friends, were arrested at the command of the Signoria. When the
Father Fra Girolamo was in the first cloister, Fra Benedetto, the
miniaturist, strove ardently to go with him; and, when the officers
thrust him back, he still insisted that he would go. But the Father
Fra Girolamo turned to him, and said: 'Fra Benedetto, on your
obedience come not, for I and Fra Domenico have to die for the love of
Christ.' And thus he was torn away from the eyes of his children."




CHAPTER X

_The Accademia delle Belle Arti--The Santissima Annunziata--And other
Buildings_

     "In Firenze, più che altrove, venivano gli uomini perfetti in tutte
     l'arti, e specialmente nella pittura."--_Vasari._


Turning southwards from the Piazza di San Marco into the Via Ricasoli,
we come to the _Accademia delle Belle Arti_, with its collection of
Tuscan and Umbrian pictures, mostly gathered from suppressed churches
and convents.

In the central hall, the Tribune of the David, Michelangelo's gigantic
marble youth stands under the cupola, surrounded by casts of the
master's other works. The young hero has just caught sight of the
approaching enemy, and is all braced up for the immortal moment.
Commenced in 1501 and finished at the beginning of 1504, out of a
block of marble over which an earlier sculptor had bungled, it was
originally set up in front of the Palazzo Vecchio on the Ringhiera, as
though to defend the great Palace of the People. It is supposed to
have taken five days to move the statue from the Opera del Duomo,
where Michelangelo had chiselled it out, to the Palace. When the
simple-minded Gonfaloniere, Piero Soderini, saw it, he told the artist
that the nose appeared to him to be too large; whereupon Michelangelo
mounted a ladder, pretended to work upon it for a few moments,
dropping a little marble dust all the time, which he had taken up with
him, and then turned round for approval to the Gonfaloniere, who
assured him that he had now given the statue life. This _gigante di
Fiorenza_, as it was called, was considerably damaged during the third
expulsion of the Medici in 1527, but retained its proud position
before the Palace until 1873.

On the right, as we approach the giant, is the _Sala del Beato
Angelico_, containing a lovely array of Fra Angelico's smaller
paintings. Were we to attempt to sum up Angelico's chief
characteristics in one word, that word would be _onestà_, in its early
mediaeval sense as Dante uses it in the _Vita Nuova_, signifying not
merely purity or chastity, as it came later to mean, but the outward
manifestation of spiritual beauty,--the _honestas_ of which Aquinas
speaks. A supreme expression of this may be found in the Paradise of
his Last Judgment (266), the mystical dance of saints and Angels in
the celestial garden that blossoms under the rays of the Sun of Divine
Love, and on all the faces of the blessed beneath the Queen of Mercy
on the Judge's right. The Hell is, naturally, almost a failure. In
many of the small scenes from the lives of Christ and His Mother, of
which there are several complete series here, some of the heads are
absolute miracles of expression; notice, for instance, the Judas
receiving the thirty pieces of silver, and all the faces in the
Betrayal (237), and, above all perhaps, the Peter in the Entry into
Jerusalem (252), on every line of whose face seems written: "Lord, why
can I not follow thee now? I will lay down my life for thy sake." The
Deposition from the Cross (246), contemplated by St. Dominic, the
Beata Villana and St. Catherine of Alexandria, appears to be an
earlier work of Angelico's. Here, also, are three great Madonnas
painted by the Friar as altar pieces for convent churches; the Madonna
and Child surrounded by Angels and saints, while Cosmas and Damian,
the patrons of the Medici, kneel at her feet (281), was executed in
1438 for the high altar of San Marco, and, though now terribly
injured, was originally one of his best pictures; the Madonna and
Child, with two Angels and six saints, Peter Martyr, Cosmas and
Damian, Francis, Antony of Padua, and Louis of Toulouse (265), was
painted for the convent of the Osservanza near Mugello,--hence the
group of Franciscans on the left; the third (227), in which Cosmas and
Damian stand with St. Dominic on the right of the Madonna, and St.
Francis with Lawrence and John the Divine on her left, is an inferior
work from his hand.

Also in this room are four delicious little panels by Lippo Lippi (264
and 263), representing the Annunciation divided into two compartments,
St. Antony Abbot and the Baptist; two Monks of the Vallombrosa, by
Perugino (241, 242), almost worthy of Raphael; and two charming scenes
of mediaeval university life, the School of Albertus Magnus (231) and
the School of St. Thomas Aquinas (247). These two latter appear to be
by some pupil of Fra Angelico, and may possibly be very early works of
Benozzo Gozzoli. In the first, Albert is lecturing to an audience,
partly lay and partly clerical, amongst whom is St. Thomas, then a
youthful novice but already distinguished by the halo and the sun upon
his breast; in the second, Thomas himself is now holding the
professorial chair, surrounded by pupils listening or taking notes,
while Dominicans throng the cloisters behind. On his right sits the
King of France; below his seat the discomforted Averrhoes humbly
places himself on the lowest step, between the heretics--William of
St. Amour and Sabellius.

From the left of the David's tribune, we turn into three rooms
containing masterpieces of the Quattrocento (with a few later works),
and appropriately named after Botticelli and Perugino.

In the _Sala prima del Botticelli_ is Sandro's famous _Primavera_, the
Allegory of Spring or the Kingdom of Venus (80). Inspired in part by
Poliziano's _stanze_ in honour of Giuliano dei Medici and his Bella
Simonetta, Botticelli nevertheless has given to his strange--not
altogether decipherable--allegory, a vague mysterious poetry far
beyond anything that Messer Angelo could have suggested to him.
Through this weirdly coloured garden of the Queen of Love, in "the
light that never was on sea or land," blind Cupid darts upon his
little wings, shooting, apparently at random, a flame-tipped arrow
which will surely pierce the heart of the central maiden of those
three, who, in their thin clinging white raiment, personify the
Graces. The eyes of Simonetta--for it is clearly she--rest for a
moment in the dance upon the stalwart Hermes, an idealised Giuliano,
who has turned away carelessly from the scene. Flora, "pranked and
pied for birth," advances from our right, scattering flowers rapidly
as she approaches; while behind her a wanton Zephyr, borne on his
strong wings, breaks through the wood to clasp Fertility, from whose
mouth the flowers are starting. Venus herself, the mistress of nature,
for whom and by whom all these things are done, stands somewhat sadly
apart in the centre of the picture; this is only one more of the
numberless springs that have passed over her since she first rose from
the sea, and she is somewhat weary of it all:--

     "Te, dea, te fugiunt venti, te nubila caeli
     Adventumque tuum, tibi suavis daedala tellus
     Summittit flores, tibi rident aequora ponti
     Placatumque nitet diffuso lumine caelum."[47]

  [47] "Before thee, goddess, flee the winds, the clouds of heaven;
  before thee and thy advent; for thee earth manifold in works puts
  forth sweet-smelling flowers; for thee the levels of the sea do laugh
  and heaven propitiated shines with outspread light" (Munro's
  _Lucretius_).

This was one of the pictures painted for Lorenzo the Magnificent.
Botticelli's other picture in this room, the large Coronation of the
Madonna (73) with its predella (74), was commissioned by the Arte di
Por Sta. Maria, the Guild of Silk-merchants, for an altar in San
Marco; the ring of festive Angels, encircling their King and Queen, is
in one of the master's most characteristic moods. On either side of
the Primavera are two early works by Lippo Lippi; Madonna adoring the
Divine Child in a rocky landscape, with the little St. John and an old
hermit (79), and the Nativity (82), with Angels and shepherds, Jerome,
Magdalene and Hilarion. Other important pictures in this room are
Andrea del Sarto's Four Saints (76), one of his latest works painted
for the monks of Vallombrosa in 1528; Andrea Verrocchio's Baptism of
Christ (71), in which the two Angels were possibly painted by
Verrocchio's great pupil, Leonardo, in his youth; Masaccio's Madonna
and Child watched over by St. Anne (70), an early and damaged work,
the only authentic easel picture of his in Florence. The three small
predella pictures (72), the Nativity, the martyrdom of Sts. Cosmas and
Damian, St. Anthony of Padua finding a stone in the place of the dead
miser's heart, by Francesco Pesellino, 1422-1457, the pupil of Lippo
Lippi, are fine examples of a painter who normally only worked on this
small scale and whose works are very rare indeed. Francesco Granacci,
who painted the Assumption (68), is chiefly interesting as having
been Michelangelo's friend and fellow pupil under Ghirlandaio.

The _Sala del Perugino_ takes its name from three works of that master
which it contains; the great Vallombrosa Assumption (57), signed and
dated 1500, one of the painter's finest altar pieces, with a very
characteristic St. Michael--the Archangel who was by tradition the
genius of the Assumption, as Gabriel had been of the Annunciation; the
Deposition from the Cross (56); and the Agony in the Garden (53). But
the gem of the whole room is Lippo Lippi's Coronation of the Madonna
(62), one of the masterpieces of the early Florentine school, which he
commenced for the nuns of Sant' Ambrogio in 1441. The throngs of boys
and girls, bearing lilies and playing at being Angels, are altogether
delightful, and the two little orphans, that are being petted by the
pretty Florentine lady on our right, are characteristic of Fra
Filippo's never failing sympathy with child life. On the left two
admirably characterised monks are patronised by St. Ambrose, and in
the right corner the jolly Carmelite himself, under the wing of the
Baptist, is welcomed by a little Angel with the scroll, _Is perfecit
opus_. It will be observed that "poor brother Lippo" has dressed
himself with greater care for his celestial visit, than he announced
his intention of doing in Robert Browning's poem:--

                   "Well, all these
     Secured at their devotion, up shall come
     Out of a corner when you least expect,
     As one by a dark stair into a great light,
     Music and talking, who but Lippo! I!--
     Mazed, motionless and moon-struck--I'm the man!
     Back I shrink--what is this I see and hear?
     I, caught up with my monk's things by mistake,
     My old serge gown and rope that goes all round,
     I, in this presence, this pure company!
     Where's a hole, where's a corner for escape?
     Then steps a sweet angelic slip of a thing
     Forward, puts out a soft palm--'Not so fast!'
     Addresses the celestial presence, 'Nay--
     'He made you and devised you, after all,
     'Though he's none of you! Could Saint John there draw--
     'His camel-hair make up a painting-brush?
     'We come to brother Lippo for all that,
     '_Iste perfecit opus!_'"

Fra Filippo's Madonna and Child, with Sts. Cosmas and Damian, Francis
and Antony, painted for the Medicean chapel in Santa Croce (55), is an
earlier and less characteristic work. Over the door is St. Vincent
preaching, by Fra Bartolommeo (58), originally painted to go over the
entrance to the sacristy in San Marco--a striking representation of a
Dominican preacher of repentance and renovation, conceived in the
spirit of Savonarola, but terribly "restored." The Trinità (63) is one
of Mariotto Albertinelli's best works, but sadly damaged. The two
child Angels (61) by Andrea del Sarto, originally belonged to his
picture of the Four Saints, in the last room; the Crucifixion, with
the wonderful figure of the Magdalene at the foot of the Cross (65),
ascribed to Luca Signorelli, does not appear to be from the master's
own hand; Ghirlandaio's predella (67), with scenes from the lives of
Sts. Dionysius, Clement, Dominic, and Thomas Aquinas, belongs to a
great picture which we shall see presently.

The _Sala seconda del Botticelli_ contains three pictures ascribed to
the master, but only one is authentic--the Madonna and Child enthroned
with six Saints, while Angels raise the curtain over her throne or
hold up emblems of the Passion (85); it is inscribed with Dante's
line--

     "Vergine Madre, Figlia del tuo Figlio."

The familiar Three Archangels (84), though attributed to Sandro, is
not even a work of his school. There is a charming little predella
picture by Fra Filippo (86), representing a miracle of San Frediano,
St. Michael announcing her death to the Blessed Virgin, and a friar
contemplating the mystery of the Blessed Trinity--pierced by the
"three arrows of the three stringed bow," to adopt Dante's phrase. The
Deposition from the Cross (98), was commenced by Filippino Lippi for
the Annunziata, and finished after his death in 1504 by Perugino, who
added the group of Maries with the Magdalene and the figure on our
right. The Vision of St. Bernard (97), by Fra Bartolommeo, is the
first picture that the Friar undertook on resuming his brush, after
Raphael's visit to Florence had stirred him up to new efforts;
commenced in 1506, it was left unfinished, and has been injured by
renovations. Here are two excellent paintings by Lorenzo di Credi (92
and 94), the former, the Adoration of the Shepherds, being his very
best and most perfectly finished work. High up are two figures in
niches by Filippino Lippi, the Baptist and the Magdalene (93 and 89),
hardly pleasing. The Resurrection (90), by Raffaellino del Garbo, is
the only authentic work in Florence of a pupil of Filippino's, who
gave great promise which was never fulfilled.

At the end of the hall are three Sale _dei Maestri Toscani_, from the
earliest Primitives down to the eighteenth century. Only a few need
concern us much.

The first room contains the works of the earlier masters, from a
pseudo-Cimabue (102), to Luca Signorelli, whose Madonna and Child with
Archangels and Doctors (164), painted for a church in Cortona, has
suffered from restoration. There are four genuine, very tiny pictures
by Botticelli (157, 158, 161, 162). The Adoration of the Kings (165),
by Gentile da Fabriano, is one of the most delightful old pictures in
Florence; Gentile da Fabriano, an Umbrian master who, through Jacopo
Bellini, had a considerable influence upon the early Venetian school,
settled in Florence in 1422, and finished this picture in the
following year for Santa Trinità, near which he kept a much frequented
bottega. Michelangelo said that Gentile had a hand similar to his
name; and this picture, with its rich and varied poetry, is his
masterpiece. The man wearing a turban, seen full face behind the third
king, is the painter himself. Kugler remarks: "Fra Angelico and
Gentile are like two brothers, both highly gifted by nature, both full
of the most refined and amiable feelings; but the one became a monk,
the other a knight." The smaller pictures surrounding it are almost
equally charming in their way--especially, perhaps, the Flight into
Egypt in the predella. The Deposition from the Cross (166), by Fra
Angelico, also comes from Santa Trinità, for which it was finished in
1445; originally one of Angelico's masterpieces, it has been badly
repainted; the saints in the frame are extremely beautiful, especially
a most wonderful St. Michael at the top, on our left; the man standing
on the ladder, wearing a black hood, is the architect, Michelozzo, who
was the Friar's friend, and may be recognised in several of his
paintings. The lunettes in the three Gothic arches above Angelico's
picture, and which, perhaps, did not originally belong to it, are by
the Camaldolese Don Lorenzo, by whom are also the Annunciation with
four Saints (143), and the three predella scenes (144, 145, 146).

Of the earlier pictures, the Madonna and Child adored by Angels (103)
is now believed to be the only authentic easel picture of Giotto's
that remains to us--though this is, possibly, an excess of scepticism.
Besides several works ascribed to Taddeo Gaddi and his son Agnolo, by
the former of whom are probably the small panels from Santa Croce,
formerly attributed to Giotto, we should notice the Pietà by Giovanni
da Milano (131); the Presentation in the Temple by Ambrogio Lorenzetti
(134), signed and dated 1342; and a large altarpiece ascribed to
Pietro Cavallini (157). The so-called Marriage of Boccaccio Adimari
with Lisa Ricasoli (147) is an odd picture of the social customs of
old Florence.

In the second room are chiefly works by Fra Bartolommeo and Mariotto
Albertinelli. By the Frate, are the series of heads of Christ and
Saints (168), excepting the Baptist on the right; they are frescoes
taken from San Marco, excepting the Christ on the left, inscribed
"Orate pro pictore 1514," which is in oil on canvas. Also by him are
the two frescoes of Madonna and Child (171, 173), and the splendid
portrait of Savonarola in the character of St. Peter Martyr (172), the
great religious persecutor of the Middle Ages, to whom Fra Girolamo
had a special devotion. By Albertinelli, are the Madonna and Saints
(167), and the Annunciation (169), signed and dated 1510. This room
also contains several pictures by Fra Paolino da Pistoia and the
Dominican nun, Plautilla Nelli, two pious but insipid artists, who
inherited Fra Bartolommeo's drawings and tried to carry on his
traditions. On a stand in the middle of the room, is Domenico
Ghirlandaio's Adoration of the Shepherds (195), from Santa Trinità, a
splendid work with--as Vasari puts it--"certain heads of shepherds
which are held a divine thing."

On the walls of the third room are later pictures of no importance or
significance. But in the middle of the room is another masterpiece by
Ghirlandaio (66); the Madonna and Child with two Angels, Thomas
Aquinas and Dionysius standing on either side of the throne, Dominic
and Clement kneeling. It is seldom, indeed, that this prosaic painter
succeeded in creating such a thinker as this Thomas, such a mystic as
this Dionysius; in the head of the latter we see indeed the image of
the man who, according to the pleasant mediæval fable eternalised by
Dante, "in the flesh below, saw deepest into the Angelic nature and
its ministry."

       *       *       *       *       *

In the Via Cavour, beyond San Marco, is the _Chiostro dello Scalzo_, a
cloister belonging to a brotherhood dedicated to St. John, which was
suppressed in the eighteenth century. Here are a series of frescoes
painted in grisaille by Andrea del Sarto and his partner, Francia
Bigio, representing scenes from the life of the Precursor, with
allegorical figures of the Virtues. The Baptism of Christ is the
earliest, and was painted by the two artists in collaboration, in 1509
or 1510. After some work for the Servites, which we shall see
presently, Andrea returned to this cloister; and painted, from 1515 to
1517, the Justice, St. John preaching, St. John baptising the people,
and his imprisonment. Some of the figures in these frescoes show the
influence of Albert Dürer's engravings. Towards the end of 1518,
Andrea went off to France to work for King Francis I.; and, while he
was away, Francia Bigio painted St. John leaving his parents, and St.
John's first meeting with Christ. On Andrea's return, he set to work
here again and painted, at intervals from 1520 to 1526, Charity, Faith
and Hope, the dance of the daughter of Herodias, the decollation of
St. John, and the presentation of his head, the Angel appearing to
Zacharias, the Visitation, and, last of all, the Birth of the Baptist.
The Charity is Andrea's own wife, Lucrezia, who at this very time, if
Vasari's story is true, was persuading him to break his promise to the
French King and to squander the money which had been intrusted to him
for the purchase of works of art.

The Via della Sapienza leads from San Marco into the _Piazza della
Santissima Annunziata_. In one of the houses on the left, now
incorporated into the Reale Istituto di Studi Superiori, Andrea del
Sarto and Francia Bigio lodged with other painters, before Andrea's
marriage; and here, usually under the presidency of the sculptor
Rustici, the "Compagnia del Paiuolo," an artists' club of twelve
members, met for feasting and disport.[48]

  [48] See _Andrea del Sarto_, by H. Guinness in the _Great Masters_
  series, and _G. F. Rustici_ in Vasari.

This Piazza was a great place for processions in old Florence. Here
stand the church of the _Santissima Annunziata_ and the convent of the
Servites, while the Piazza itself is flanked to right and left by
arcades originally designed by Brunelleschi. The equestrian statue of
the Grand Duke Ferdinand I. was cast by Giovanni da Bologna out of
metal from captured Turkish guns. The arcade on the right, as we face
the church, with its charming medallions of babies in swaddling
clothes by Andrea della Robbia, is a part of the Spedale degli
Innocenti or Hospital for Foundlings, which was commenced from
Brunelleschi's designs in 1421, during the Gonfalonierate of Giovanni
dei Medici; the work, which was eloquently supported in the Council of
the People by Leonardo Bruni, was raised by the Silk-merchants Guild,
the Arte di Por Santa Maria. On its steps the Compagnacci murdered
their first victim in the attack on San Marco. There is a picturesque
court, designed by Brunelleschi, with an Annunciation by Andrea della
Robbia over the door of the chapel, and a small picture gallery, which
contains nothing of much importance, save a Holy Family with Saints by
Piero di Cosimo. In the chapel, or church of Santa Maria degli
Innocenti, there is a masterpiece by Domenico Ghirlandaio, painted in
1488, an Adoration of the Magi (the fourth head on the left is the
painter himself), in which the Massacre of the Innocents is seen in
the background, and two of these glorified infant martyrs, under the
protection of the two St. Johns, are kneeling most sweetly in front of
the Madonna and her Child, for whom they have died, joining in the
adoration of the kings and the _gloria_ of the angelic choir.

The church of the Santissima Annunziata was founded in the thirteenth
century, but has been completely altered and modernised since at
different epochs. In summer mornings lilies and other flowers lie in
heaps in its portico and beneath Ghirlandaio's mosaic of the
Annunciation, to be offered at Madonna's shrine within. The entrance
court was built in the fifteenth century, at the expense of the elder
Piero dei Medici. The fresco to the left of the entrance, the Nativity
of Christ, is by Alessio Baldovinetti. Within the glass, to the left,
are six frescoes representing the life and miracles of the great
Servite, Filippo Benizzi; that of his receiving the habit of the order
is by Cosimo Rosselli (1476); the remaining five are early works by
Andrea del Sarto, painted in 1509 and 1510, for which he received a
mere trifle; in the midst of them is an indifferent seventeenth
century bust of their painter. The frescoes on the right, representing
the life of the Madonna, of whom this order claims to be the special
servants, are slightly later. The approach of the Magi and the
Nativity of the Blessed Virgin, the latter dated 1514, are among the
finest works of Andrea del Sarto; in the former he has introduced
himself and the sculptor Sansovino, and among the ladies in the latter
is his wife. Fifty years afterwards the painter Jacopo da Empoli was
copying this picture, when a very old lady, who was going into the
church to hear mass, stopped to look at his work, and then, pointing
to the portrait of Lucrezia, told him that it was herself. The
Sposalizio, by Francia Bigio, painted in 1513, was damaged by the
painter himself in a fit of passion at the meddling of the monks. The
Visitation, by Jacopo da Pontormo, painted in 1516, shows what
admirable work this artist could do in his youth, before he fell into
his mannered imitations of Michelangelo; the Assumption, painted
slightly later by another of Andrea's pupils, Rosso Fiorentino, is
less excellent.

Inside the church itself, on the left, is the sanctuary of Our Lady of
the Annunciation, one of the most highly revered shrines in Tuscany;
it was constructed from the designs of Michelozzo at the cost of the
elder Piero dei Medici to enclose the miraculous picture of the
Annunciation, and lavishly decorated and adorned by the Medicean Grand
Dukes. After the Pazzi conspiracy, Piero's son Lorenzo had a waxen
image of himself suspended here in thanksgiving for his escape. Over
the altar there is usually a beautiful little head of the Saviour, by
Andrea del Sarto. The little oratory beyond, with the Madonna's
mystical emblems on its walls, was constructed in the seventeenth
century.

In the second chapel from the shrine is a fresco by Andrea del
Castagno, which was discovered in the summer of 1899 under a copy of
Michelangelo's Last Judgment. It represents St. Jerome and two women
saints adoring the Blessed Trinity, and is characteristic of the _modo
terribile_ in which this painter conceived his subjects; the heads of
the Jerome and the older saint to our right are particularly powerful.
For the rest, the interior of this church is more gorgeous than
tasteful; and the other works which it contains, including the two
Peruginos, and some tolerable monuments, are third rate. The rotunda
of the choir was designed by Leo Battista Alberti and erected at the
cost of the Marquis of Mantua, whose descendant, San Luigi Gonzaga,
had a special devotion to the miraculous picture.

From the north transept, the cloisters are entered. Here, over the
door, is the Madonna del Sacco, an exceedingly beautiful fresco by
Andrea del Sarto, painted in 1525. St. Joseph, leaning upon the sack
which gives the picture its name, is reading aloud the Prophecies to
the Mother and Child whom they concern. In this cloister--which was
built by Cronaca--is the monument of the French knight slain at
Campaldino in 1289 (_see_ chapter ii.), which should be contrasted
with the later monuments of condottieri in the Duomo. Here also is the
chapel of St. Luke, where the Academy of Artists, founded under Cosimo
I., used to meet.

A good view of the exterior of the rotunda can be obtained from the
Via Gino Capponi. At the corner of this street and the Via del
Mandorlo is the house which Andrea del Sarto bought for himself and
his Lucrezia, after his return from France, and here he died in 1531,
"full of glory and of domestic sorrows." Lucrezia survived him for
nearly forty years, and died in 1570. Perhaps, if she had not made
herself so unpleasant to her husband's pupils and assistants, good
Giorgio Vasari--the youngest of them--might not have left us so dark a
picture of this beautiful Florentine.

The rather picturesque bit of ruin in the Via degli Alfani, at the
corner of the Via del Castellaccio, is merely a part of an oratory in
connection with Santa Maria degli Angioli, which Brunelleschi
commenced for Filippo Scolari, but which was abandoned. _Santa Maria
degli Angioli_ itself, a suppressed Camaldolese house, was of old one
of the most important convents in Florence. The famous poet, Fra
Guittone d'Arezzo, of whom Dante speaks disparagingly in the
_Commedia_ and in the _De Vulgari Eloquentia_, was instrumental in its
foundation in 1293. It was sacked in 1378 during the rising of the
Ciompi. This convent in the earlier portion of the fifteenth century
was a centre of Hellenic studies and humanistic culture, under Father
Ambrogio Traversari, who died at the close of the Council of Florence.
In the cloister there is still a powerful fresco by Andrea del
Castagno representing Christ on the Cross, with Madonna and the
Magdalene, the Baptist, St. Benedict and St. Romuald. The Romuald
especially, the founder of the order, is a fine life-like figure.

The _Spedale di Santa Maria Nuova_ was originally founded by Messer
Folco Portinari, the father of the girl who may have been Dante's
"Giver of Blessing," in 1287. Folco died in 1289, and is buried within
the church, which contains one of Andrea della Robbia's Madonnas. Over
the portal is a terracotta Coronation of the Madonna by Bicci di
Lorenzo, erected in 1424. The two frescoes, representing scenes in the
history of the hospital, are of the early part of the fifteenth
century; the one on the right was painted in 1424 by Bicci di Lorenzo.
In the Via Bufalini, Ghiberti had his workshop; in what was once his
house is now the picture gallery of the hospital. Here is the fresco
of the Last Judgment, commenced by Fra Bartolommeo in 1499, before he
abandoned the world, and finished by Mariotto Albertinelli. Among its
contents are an Annunciation by Albertinelli, Madonnas by Cosimo
Rosselli and Rosso Fiorentino, and a terracotta Madonna by
Verrocchio. The two pictures ascribed to Angelico and Botticelli are
not authentic. But in some respects more interesting than these
Florentine works is the triptych by the Fleming, Hugo Van der Goes,
painted between 1470 and 1475 for Tommaso Portinari, Messer Folco's
descendant; in the centre is the "Adoration of the Shepherds," with
deliciously quaint little Angels; in the side wings, Tommaso Portinari
with his two boys, his wife and their little girl, are guarded by
their patron saints. Tommaso Portinari was agent for the Medici in
Bruges; and, on the occasion of the wedding of Charles the Bold of
Burgundy with Margaret of York in 1468, he made a fine show riding in
the procession at the head of the Florentines.

  [Illustration: THE CLOISTER OF THE INNOCENTI]

A little more to the east are the church and suppressed convent of
Santa Maria Maddalena de' Pazzi. In the church, which has a fine court
designed by Giuliano da San Gallo, is a Coronation of the Madonna by
Cosimo Rosselli; in the chapter-house of the convent is a Crucifixion
by Perugino, painted in the closing years of the Quattrocento, perhaps
the grandest of all his frescoes. In Ruskin's chapter on the
_Superhuman Ideal_, in the second volume of _Modern Painters_, he
cites the background of this fresco (together with Benozzo Gozzoli's
in the Palazzo Riccardi) as one of the most perfect examples of those
ideal landscapes of the religious painters, in which Perugino is
supreme: "In the landscape of the fresco in Sta. Maria Maddalena at
Florence there is more variety than is usual with him: a gentle river
winds round the bases of rocky hills, a river like our own Wye or Tees
in their loveliest reaches; level meadows stretch away on its opposite
side; mounds set with slender-stemmed foliage occupy the nearer
ground, and a small village with its simple spire peeps from the
forest at the bend of the valley."

Beyond is the church of Sant' Ambrogio, once belonging to the convent
of Benedictine nuns for whom Fra Lippo Lippi painted his great
Coronation of Madonna. The church is hardly interesting at present,
but contains an Assumption by Cosimo Rosselli, and, in the chapel of
the Blessed Sacrament, a marble tabernacle by Mino da Fiesole and a
fresco by Cosimo Rosselli painted in 1486, representing the legend of
a miraculous chalice with some fine Florentine portrait heads,
altogether above the usual level of Cosimo's work.

The Borgo la Croce leads hence to the Porta alla Croce, in the very
prosaic and modern Piazza Beccaria. This Porta alla Croce, the eastern
gate of Florence in the third walls, was commenced by Arnolfo di
Cambio in 1284; the frescoed Madonna in the lunette is by one of the
later followers of Ghirlandaio. Through this gate, on October 6th
1308, Corso Donati fled from Florence, after his desperate attempt to
hold the Piazza di San Piero Maggiore against the forces of the
Signoria. Following the Via Aretina towards Rovezzano, we soon reach
the remains of the Badia di San Salvi, where he was slain by his
captors--as Dante makes his brother Forese darkly prophesy in the
twenty-fourth canto of the _Purgatorio_. Four year later, in October
1312, the Emperor Henry VII. lay sick in the Abbey, while his army
ineffectually besieged Florence. Nothing remains to remind us of that
epoch, although the district is still called the Campo di Marte or
Campo di Arrigo. We know from Leonardo Bruni that Dante, although he
had urged the Emperor on to attack the city, did not join the imperial
army like many of his fellow exiles had done: "so much reverence did
he yet retain for his fatherland." In the old refectory of the Abbey
is Andrea del Sarto's Last Supper, one of his most admirable frescoes,
painted between 1525 and 1527, equally excellent in colour and design.
"I know not," writes Vasari, "what to say of this _Cenacolo_ that
would not be too little, seeing it to be such that all who behold it
are struck with astonishment." When the siege was expected in 1529,
and the defenders of the city were destroying everything in the
suburbs which could give aid or cover to the enemy, a party of them
broke down a wall in the convent and found themselves face to face
with this picture. Lost in admiration, they built up a portion of what
they had destroyed, in order that this last triumph of Florentine
painting might be secure from the hand of war.

       *       *       *       *       *

On this side of the river, those walls of Florence which Lapo Gianni
would fain have seen _inargentate_--the third circle reared by Arnolfo
and his successors--have been almost entirely destroyed, and their
site marked by the broad utterly prosaic Viali. Besides the Porta alla
Croce, the Porta San Gallo and the Porta al Prato still stand, on the
north and west respectively. The Porta San Gallo was begun from
Arnolfo's design in 1284, but not finished until 1327; the fresco in
the lunette is by Michele di Ridolfo Ghirlandaio, Ridolfo's adopted
son. On July 21, 1304, the exiled Bianchi and Ghibellines made a
desperate attempt to surprise Florence through this gate, led by the
heroic young Baschiera della Tosa. In 1494, Piero dei Medici and his
brother Giuliano fled from the people through it; and in 1738 the
first Austrian Grand Duke, Francis II., entered by it. The triumphant
arch beyond, at which the lions of the Republic, to right and left of
the gate, appear to gaze with little favour, marked this latter
event.

These Austrian Grand Dukes were decidedly better rulers than the
Medici, to whom, by an imperial usurpation, they succeeded on the
death of Gian Gastone. Leopold I., Ferdinand III., Leopold II., were
tolerant and liberal-minded sovereigns, and under them Tuscany became
the most prosperous state in Italy: "a Garden of Paradise without the
tree of knowledge and without the tree of life." But, when the
Risorgimento came, their sway was found incompatible with the
aspirations of the Italians towards national unification; the last
Grand Duke, after wavering between Austria and young Italy, threw in
his lot with the former, and after having brought the Austrians into
Tuscany, was forced to abdicate. Thus Florence became the first
capital of Victor Emmanuel's kingdom.

In the Via di San Gallo is the very graceful Palazzo Pandolfini,
commenced in 1520 from Raphael's designs, on the left as we move
inwards from the gate. From the Via 27 Aprile, which joins the Via di
San Gallo, we enter the former convent of Sta. Appollonia. In what was
once its refectory is a fresco of the Last Supper by Andrea del
Castagno, with the Crucifixion, Entombment, and Resurrection. Andrea
del Castagno impressed his contemporaries by his furious passions and
savage intractability of temper, his quality of _terribilità_;
although we now know that Vasari's story that Andrea obtained the
secret of using oil as a vehicle in painting from his friend, Domenico
Veneziano, and then murdered him, must be a mere fable, since Domenico
survived Andrea by nearly five years. Rugged unadorned strength, with
considerable power of characterisation and great technical dexterity,
mark his extant works, which are very few in number. This _Cenacolo_
in the finest of them all; the figures are full of life and
character, although the Saviour is unpleasing and the Judas inclines
to caricature. The nine figures from the Villa Pandolfini, frescoes
transferred to canvas, are also his; Filippo Scolari, known as Pippo
Spano (a Florentine connected with the Buondelmonti, but Ghibelline,
who became Count of Temesvar and a great Hungarian captain), Farinata
degli Uberti, Niccolò Acciaiuoli (a Florentine who became Grand
Seneschal of the kingdom of Naples and founded the Certosa), the
Cumæan Sibyl, Esther, Queen Tomyris, Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio.
The two poets and Boccaccio are the least successful, since they were
altogether out of Andrea's line, but there must have been something
noble in the man to enable him so to realise Farinata degli Uberti, as
he stood alone at Empoli when all others agreed to destroy Florence,
to defend her to the last: _Colui che la difese a viso aperto._

A _Cenacolo_ of a very different character may be seen in the
refectory of the suppressed convent of Sant' Onofrio in the Via di
Faenza. Though showing Florentine influence in its composition, this
fresco is mainly Umbrian in character; from a half deciphered
inscription on the robe of one of the Apostles (which appears to have
been altered), it was once attempted to ascribe it to Raphael. It is
now believed to be partly the work of Perugino, partly that of some
pupil or pupils of his--perhaps Gerino da Pistoia or Giannicola Manni.
It has also been ascribed to Giovanni Lo Spagna and to Raffaellino del
Garbo. Morelli supposed it to be the work of a pupil of Perugino who
was inspired by a Florentine engraving of the fifteenth century, and
suggested Giannicola Manni. In the same street is the picturesque
little Gothic church of San Jacopo in Campo Corbolini.

  [Illustration: A FLORENTINE SUBURB]

At the end of the Via Faenza--where once stood one of Arnolfo's
gates--we are out again upon the Viale, here named after Filippo
Strozzi. Opposite rises what was the great Medicean citadel, the
Fortezza da Basso, built by Alessandro dei Medici to overawe the city.
Michelangelo steadfastly refused, at the risk of his life, to have
anything to do with it. Filippo Strozzi is said to have aided
Alessandro in carrying out this design, and even to have urged it upon
him, although he was warned that he was digging his own grave. After
the unsuccessful attempt of the exiles to overthrow the
newly-established government of Duke Cosimo, while Baccio Valori and
the other prisoners were sent to be beheaded or hanged in the
Bargello, Filippo Strozzi was imprisoned here and cruelly tortured, in
spite of the devoted attempts of his children to obtain his release.
Here at length, in 1538, he was found dead in his cell. He was said to
have left a paper declaring that, lest he should be more terribly
tortured and forced to say things to prejudice his own honour and
inculpate innocent persons, he had resolved to take his own life, and
that he commended his soul to God, humbly praying Him, if He would
grant it no other good, at least to give it a place with that of Cato
of Utica. It is not improbable that the paper was a fabrication, and
that Filippo had been murdered by orders of the Duke.




CHAPTER XI

_The Bridges--The Quarter of Santa Maria Novella_

     "Sopra il bel fiume d'Arno alla gran villa."
         --_Dante._


Outside the portico of the Uffizi four Florentine heroes--Farinata
degli Uberti, Piero Capponi, Giovanni delle Bande Nere, Francesco
Ferrucci--from their marble niches keep watch and ward over the river.
This Arno, which Lapo Gianni dreamed of as _balsamo fino_, is spanned
by four ancient and famous bridges, and bordered on both banks by the
Lungarno.

To the east is the Ponte Rubaconte--so called after the Milanese
Podestà, during whose term of office it was made--or Ponte alle
Grazie, built in 1237; it is mentioned by Dante in Canto xii. of the
_Purgatorio_, and is the only existing Florentine bridge which could
have actually felt the footsteps of the man who was afterwards to
tread scathless through the ways of Hell, "unbitten by its whirring
sulphur-spume." It has, however, been completely altered at various
periods. On this bridge a solemn reconciliation was effected between
Guelfs and Ghibellines on July 2, 1273, by Pope Gregory X. The Pope in
state, between Charles of Anjou and the Emperor Baldwin of
Constantinople, blessed his "reconciled" people from the bridge, and
afterwards laid the first stone of a church called San Gregorio della
Pace in the Piazza dei Mozzi, now destroyed. As soon as the Pope's
back was turned, Charles contrived that his work should be undone, and
the Ghibellines hounded again out of the city.[49]

  [49] Opposite the bridge, at the beginning of the Via dei Benci, is
  the palace of the old Alberti family; the remains of their loggia
  stand further up the street, at the corner of the Borgo Santa Croce.
  In all these streets, between the Lungarno della Borsa and the Borgo
  dei Greci, there are many old houses and palaces; in the Piazza dei
  Peruzzi the houses, formerly of that family and partly built in the
  fourteenth century, follow the lines of the Roman amphitheatre--the
  _Parlascio_ of the early Middle Ages. The Palazzo dei Giudici--in the
  piazza of that name--was originally built in the thirteenth century,
  though reconstructed at a later epoch.

Below the Ponte alle Grazie comes the Ponte Vecchio, the Bridge _par
excellence_; _il ponte_, or _il passo d'Arno_, as Dante calls it. More
than a mere bridge over a river, this Ponte Vecchio is a link in the
chain binding Florence to the Eternal City. A Roman bridge stood here
of old, and a Roman road may be said to have run across it; it heard
the tramp of Roman legionaries, and shook beneath the horses of
Totila's Gothic chivalry. This Roman bridge possibly lasted down to
the great inundation of 1333. The present structure, erected by Taddeo
Gaddi after 1360, with its exquisite framed pictures of the river and
city in the centre, is one of the most characteristic bits of old
Florence still remaining. The shops of goldsmiths and jewellers were
originally established here in the days of Cosimo I., for whom Giorgio
Vasari built the gallery that runs above to connect the two Grand
Ducal Palaces. Connecting the Porta Romana with the heart of the city,
the bridge has witnessed most of the great pageants and processions in
Florentine history. Popes and Emperors have crossed it in state;
Florentine generals, or hireling condottieri, at the head of their
victorious troops; the Piagnoni, bearing the miraculous Madonna of the
Impruneta to save the city from famine and pestilence; and
Savonarola's new Cyrus, Charles VIII., as conqueror, with lance
levelled. Across it, in 1515, was Pope Leo X. borne in his litter,
blessing the people to right and left, amidst the exultant cries of
_Palle, Palle!_ from the crowd, who had forgotten for the time all the
crimes of his house in their delight at seeing their countryman, the
son of Lorenzo the Magnificent, raised to the papal throne.

In Dante's day, what remained of the famous statue supposed of Mars,
_quella pietra scema che guarda il ponte_, "that mutilated stone which
guardeth the bridge," still stood here at the corner, probably at the
beginning of the present Lungarno Acciaiuoli. "I was of that city that
changed its first patron for the Baptist," says an unknown suicide in
the seventh circle of Hell, probably one of the Mozzi: "on which
account he with his art will ever make it sorrowful. And were it not
that at the passage of the Arno there yet remains some semblance of
him, those citizens, who afterwards rebuilt it on the ashes left by
Attila, would have laboured in vain." Here, as we saw in chapter i.,
young Buondelmonte was murdered in 1215, a sacrifice to Mars in the
city's "last time of peace," _nella sua pace postrema_.

  [Illustration: THE PONTE VECCHIO]

Lower down comes the Ponte Santa Trinità, originally built in 1252;
and still lower the Ponte alla Carraia, built between 1218 and 1220 in
the days of Frederick II., for the sake of the growing commerce of the
Borgo Ognissanti. This latter bridge was originally called the Ponte
Nuovo, as at that time the only other bridge over the Arno was the
Ponte Vecchio. It was here that a terrible disaster took place on
May 1st, 1304--a strange piece of grim mediæval jesting by the irony
of fate turned to still grimmer earnest. After a cruel period of
disasters and faction fights, there had come a momentary gleam of
peace, and it was determined to renew the pageants and festivities
that had been held in better days on May-day, "in the good time
passed, of the tranquil and good state of Florence," each contrada
trying to rival the other. What followed had best be told in the words
of Giovanni Villani, an eye-witness:--

"Amongst the others, the folk of the Borgo San Frediano, who had been
wont of yore to devise the newest and most diverse pastimes, sent out
a proclamation, that those who wished to know news of the other world
should be upon the Ponte alla Carraia and around the Arno on the day
of the calends of May. And they arranged scaffolds on the Arno upon
boats and ships, and made thereon the likeness and figure of Hell with
fires and other pains and torments, with men arrayed like demons,
horrible to behold, and others who bore the semblance of naked souls,
that seemed real persons; and they hurled them into those divers
torments with loud cries and shrieks and uproar, the which seemed
hateful and appalling to hear and to behold. Many were the citizens
that gathered here to witness this new sport; and the Ponte alla
Carraia, the which was then of wood from pile to pile, was so laden
with folk that it broke down in several places, and fell with the
people who were upon it, whereby many persons died there and were
drowned, and many were grieviously injured; so that the game was
changed from jest to earnest, and, as the proclamation had run, so
indeed did many depart in death to hear news of the other world, with
great mourning and lamentation to all the city, for each one thought
that he had lost son or brother."

The famous inundation of November 1333 swept away all the bridges,
excepting the Ponte Rubaconte. The present Ponte Santa Trinità and
Ponte alla Carraia were erected for Duke Cosimo I. by Bartolommeo
Ammanati, shortly after the middle of the sixteenth century.

Turning from the river at the Ponte Vecchio by the Via Por Sta. Maria,
we see on the right the old church of San Stefano, with a completely
modernised interior. Here in 1426 Rinaldo degli Albizzi and Niccolò da
Uzzano held a meeting of some seventy citizens, and Rinaldo proposed
to check the growing power of the populace by admitting the magnates
into the government and reducing the number of Arti Minori. Their plan
failed through the opposition of Giovanni dei Medici, who acquired
much popularity thereby. It should be remembered that it was not here,
as usually stated, but in the Badia, which was also dedicated to St.
Stephen, that Boccaccio lectured on Dante.

Right and left two very old streets diverge, the Via Lambertesca and
the Borgo Santissimi Apostoli, with splendid mediæval towers. In the
former, at the angle of the Via di Por Santa Maria, are the towers of
the Girolami and Gherardini, round which there was fierce fighting in
the expulsion of the Ghibellines in 1266. Opposite, at the opening of
the Borgo Santissimi Apostoli, are the towers of the Baldovinetti (the
tower of San Zenobio) and of the Amidei--_la casa di che nacque il
vostro fleto_, as Cacciaguida puts it to Dante: "the house from which
your wailing sprang," whose feud with the Buondelmonti was supposed to
have originated the Guelf and Ghibelline factions in Florence. And
further down the Borgo Santissimi Apostoli, at the opening of the
Chiasso delle Misure, is the tall and stately tower of these
Buondelmonti themselves, who also had a palace on the opposite side of
the street.

The old church of the Santissimi Apostoli, in the Piazza del Limbo,
has an inscription on its façade stating that it was founded by
Charlemagne, and consecrated by Archbishop Turpin, with Roland and
Oliver as witnesses. It appears to have been built in the eleventh
century, and is the oldest church on this side of the Arno, with the
exception of the Baptistery. Its interior, which is well preserved, is
said to have been taken by Filippo Brunelleschi as the model for San
Lorenzo and Santo Spirito. In it is a beautiful Ciborium by Andrea
della Robbia, with monuments of some of the Altoviti family.

  [Illustration: THE TOWER OF S. ZANOBI]

The Piazza Santa Trinità was a great place for social and other
gatherings in mediæval and renaissance Florence. Here on the first of
May 1300, a dance of girls was being held to greet the calends of May
in the old Florentine fashion, when a band of mounted youths of the
Donati, Pazzi and Spini came to blows with a rival company of the
Cerchi and their allies; and thus the first blood was shed in the
disastrous struggle between the Bianchi and Neri. A few days later a
similar faction fight took place on the other side of the bridge, in
the Piazza Frescobaldi, on the occasion of a lady's funeral. The
great Palazzo Spini, opposite the church, was built at the end of the
thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth century by Geri Spini, the
rich papal banker and one of the leaders of the "black" faction. Here
he received the Pope's ambassadors and made a great display of his
wealth and magnificence, as we gather from Boccaccio's _Decameron_,
which gives us an amusing story of his friendship with Cisti the
baker, and another of the witty repartees of Madonna Oretta, Geri's
wife, a lady of the Malaspina. When Charles of Valois entered Florence
in November 1301, Messer Geri entertained a portion of the French
barons here, while the Prince himself took up his quarters with the
Frescobaldi over the river; during that tumultuous period of
Florentine history that followed the expulsion of the Bianchi, Geri
was one of the most prominent politicians in the State.

Savonarola's processions of friars and children used to pass through
this piazza and over the bridge, returning by way of the Ponte
Vecchio. On the Feast of Corpus Christi, 1497, as the Blessed
Sacrament was being borne along, with many children carrying red
crosses, they were set upon by some of the Compagnacci. The story is
quaintly told by Landucci: "As the said procession was passing over
the Bridge of Santa Trinità, certain youths were standing to see it
pass, by the side of a little church which is on the bridge on the
right hand going towards Santo Spirito. Seeing those children with the
crosses, they said: 'Here are the children of Fra Girolamo.' And one
of them coming up to them, took one of these crosses and, snatching it
out of the hand of that child, broke it and threw it into the Arno, as
though he had been an infidel; and all this he did for hatred of the
Friar."

The column in the Piazza--taken from the Baths of Caracalla at
Rome--was set here by Duke Cosimo I., to celebrate his victory over
the heroic Piero Strozzi, _il maravigliosissimo bravo Piero Strozzi_
as Benvenuto Cellini calls him, in 1563. The porphyry statue of
Justice was set high up on this pedestal by the most unjust of all
rulers of Florence, the Grand Duke Francesco I., Cosimo's son. This
same piazza witnessed a not over friendly meeting of Leonardo da Vinci
and Michelangelo. Leonardo, at the time that he was engaged upon his
cartoon for the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, was walking in the square,
dressed in his usual sumptuous fashion, with a rose coloured tunic
reaching down to his knees; when a group of citizens, who were
discussing Dante, called him and asked him the meaning of a passage in
question. At that moment Michelangelo passed by, and Leonardo
courteously referred them to him. "Explain it yourself," said the
great sculptor, "you, who made the model of a horse to cast in bronze,
and could not cast it, and to your shame left it in the lurch."[50]
And he abruptly turned his back on the group, leaving Leonardo red
with either shame or anger.

  [50] See Addington Symonds' _Michelangelo_. The horse in question was
  the equestrian monument of Francesco Sforza.

The church of Santa Trinità was originally built in the Gothic style
by Niccolò Pisano, shortly after 1250, in the days of the Primo Popolo
and contemporaneously with the Palazzo del Podestà. It was largely
altered by Buontalenti in the last part of the sixteenth century, and
has been recently completely restored. It is a fine example of Italian
Gothic. In the interior, are a Mary Magdalene by Desiderio da
Settignano and a marble altar by Benedetto da Rovezzano; and also, in
one of the chapels of the right aisle, an Annunciation by Don
Lorenzo, one of his best works, with some frescoes, partly obliterated
and much "restored," by the same good Camaldolese monk.

But the great attraction of this church is the Sassetti Chapel next to
the sacristy, which contains a splendid series of frescoes painted in
1485 by Domenico Ghirlandaio. The altar piece is only a copy of the
original, now in the Accademia. The frescoes represent scenes from the
life of St. Francis, and should be compared with Giotto's simpler
handling of the same theme in the Bardi Chapel at Santa Croce. We have
the Saint renouncing the world, the confirmation of his rule by
Honorius, his preaching to the Soldan, his reception of the Stigmata,
his death and funeral (in which the life-like spectacled bishop
aroused Vasari's enthusiastic admiration), and the raising to life of
a child of the Sassetti family by an apparition of St. Francis in the
Piazza outside the church. The last is especially interesting as
giving us a picture of the Piazza in its former state, such as it
might have been in the Mayday faction fight, with the Spini Palace,
the older bridge, and the houses of the Frescobaldi beyond the river.
Each fresco is full of interesting portraits; among the spectators in
the consistory is Lorenzo the Magnificent; Ghirlandaio himself appears
in the death scene; and, perhaps, most interesting of all, if Vasari's
identification can be trusted, are the three who stand on the right
near the church in the scene of the resuscitation of the child. These
three are said to be Maso degli Albizzi, the founder of the party of
the Ottimati, those _nobili popolani_ who held the State before they
were eclipsed by the Medici; Agnolo Acciaiuoli, who was ruined by
adhering to Luca Pitti against Piero dei Medici; and that noblest of
all the Medicean victims, Palla Strozzi (_see_ chapter iii.). It
should, however, be remembered that Maso degli Albizzi had died
nearly seventy years before, and that not even Palla Strozzi can be
regarded as a contemporary portrait. The sacristy of this church was
founded by the Strozzi, and one of the house, Onofrio, lies buried
within it. Extremely fine, too, are the portraits of Francesco
Sassetti himself and his wife, kneeling below near the altar, also by
Ghirlandaio, who likewise painted the sibyls on the ceiling and the
fresco representing the sibyl prophesying of the Incarnation to
Augustus, over the entrance to the chapel. The sepulchral monuments of
Francesco and his wife are by Giuliano da San Gallo.

The famous Crucifix of San Miniato, which bowed its head to San
Giovanni Gualberto when he spared the murderer of his brother, was
transferred to Santa Trinità in 1671 with great pomp and ceremony, and
is still preserved here.

In June 1301 a council was held in the church by the leaders of the
Neri, nominally to bring about a concord with the rival faction, in
reality to entrap the Cerchi and pave the way for their expulsion by
foreign aid. Among the Bianchi present was the chronicler, Dino
Compagni; "desirous of unity and peace among citizens," and, before
the council broke up, he made a strong appeal to the more factious
members. "Signors," he said, "why would you confound and undo so good
a city? Against whom would you fight? Against your own brothers? What
victory shall ye have? Nought else but lamentation." The Neri answered
that the object of their council was merely to stop scandal and
establish peace; but it soon became known that there was a conspiracy
between them and the Conte Simone da Battifolle of the Casentino, who
was sending his son with a strong force towards Florence. Simone dei
Bardi (who had been the husband of Beatrice Portinari) appears to
have been the connecting link of the conspiracy, which the prompt
action of the Signoria checked for the present. The evil day, however,
was postponed, not averted.

Following the Via di Parione we reach the back of the Palazzo
Corsini--a large seventeenth century palace whose front is on the
Lungarno. Here is a large picture gallery, in which a good many of the
pictures are erroneously ascribed, but which contains a few more
important works. The two gems of the collection are Botticelli's
portrait of a Goldsmith (210), formerly ascribed to one of the
Pollaiuoli; and Luca Signorelli's tondo (157), of Madonna and Child
with St. Jerome and St. Bernard. A Madonna and Child with Angels and
the Baptist (162) by Filippino Lippi, or ascribed to him, is a
charming and poetical picture; but is not admitted by Mr Berenson into
his list of genuine works by this painter. The supposed cartoon for
Raphael's Julius II. is of very doubtful authenticity. The picture of
the martyrdom of Savonarola (292) is interesting and valuable as
affording a view of the Piazza at that epoch, but cannot be regarded
as an accurate historical representation of the event. That
seventeenth century reincarnation of Lorenzo di Credi, Carlo Dolci, is
represented here by several pictures which are above his usual level;
for instance, Poetry (179) is a really beautiful thing of its kind.
Among the other pictures is a little Apollo and Daphne (241), probably
an early work of Andrea del Sarto. The Raffaellino di Carlo who
painted the Madonna and Saints (200), is not to be confused with
Filippino's pupil, Raffaellino del Garbo.

In the Via Tornabuoni, the continuation of the Piazza Santa Trinità,
stands the finest of all Florentine palaces of the Renaissance, the
Palazzo Strozzi. It was begun in 1489 for the elder Filippo Strozzi,
with the advice and encouragement of Lorenzo the Magnificent, by
Benedetto da Maiano, and continued by Simone del Pollaiuolo (called
"Cronaca" from his yarning propensities), to whom the cornice and
court are due. It was finished for the younger Filippo Strozzi, the
husband of Clarice dei Medici, shortly before his fall, in the days of
Duke Alessandro. The works in iron on the exterior--lanterns,
torch-holders and the like, especially a wonderful _fanale_ at the
corner--are by Niccolò Grosso (called "Caparra" from his habit of
demanding payment in advance), and the finest things of their kind
imaginable. Filippo Strozzi played a curiously inconstant part in the
history of the closing days of the Republic. After having been the
most intimate associate of his brother-in-law, the younger Lorenzo, he
was instrumental first in the expulsion of Ippolito and Alessandro,
then in the establishment of Alessandro's tyranny; and finally,
finding himself cast by the irony of fate for the part of the last
Republican hero, he took the field against Duke Cosimo, only to find a
miserable end in a dungeon. One of his daughters, Luisa Capponi, was
believed to have been poisoned by order of Alessandro; his son, Piero,
became the bravest Italian captain of the sixteenth century and
carried on a heroic contest with Cosimo's mercenary troops.

  [Illustration: ARMS OF THE STROZZI]

Down the Via della Vigna Nuova is another of these Renaissance
palaces, built for a similar noble family associated with the
Medici,--the Palazzo Rucellai. Bernardo Rucellai--who was not
originally of noble origin, but whose family had acquired what in
Florence was the real title to nobility, vast wealth in
commerce--married Nannina, the younger sister of Lorenzo the
Magnificent, and had this palace begun for him in 1460 by Bernardo
Rossellino from the design of Leo Battista Alberti,--to whom also the
Rucellai loggia opposite is due. More of Alberti's work for the
Rucellai may be seen at the back of the palace, in the Via della
Spada, where in the former church of San Pancrazio (which gave its
name to a _sesto_ in old Florence) is the chapel which he built for
Bernardo Rucellai in imitation of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem.

The Via delle Belle Donne--most poetically named of Florentine
streets--leads hence into the Piazza di Santa Maria Novella. On the
way, where five roads meet, is the Croce al Trebbio, with symbols of
the four Evangelists below the Crucifix. It marks the site of one of
St Peter Martyr's fiercest triumphs over the Paterini, one of those
"marvellous works" for which Savonarola, in his last address to his
friars, complains that the Florentines had been so ungrateful towards
his Order. But the story of the Dominicans of Santa Maria Novella is
not one of persecution, but of peace-making. They played at times as
noble a part in mediæval Florence as their brethren of San Marco were
to do in the early Renaissance; and later, during the great siege,
they took up the work of Fra Girolamo, and inspired the people to
their last heroic defence of the Republic.

Opposite Santa Maria Novella is the Loggia di San Paolo, designed by
Brunelleschi, and erected in 1451, shortly after his death. The
coloured terracotta reliefs, by Andrea della Robbia, include two fine
portraits of governors of the hospital (not of the Della Robbia
themselves, as frequently stated). The relief in a lunette over the
door on the right, representing the meeting of St Francis and St
Dominic, is one of Andrea's best works:--

     "L'un fu tutto serafico in ardore,
        l'altro per sapienza in terra fue
        di cherubica luce uno splendore.
      Dell'un dirò, però che d'ambedue
        si dice l'un pregiando, qual ch'uom prende,
        perchè ad un fine fur l'opere sue."[51]

  [51] "The one was all seraphic in his ardour, the other by his
         wisdom was on earth a splendour of cherubic light.
       "Of one will I discourse, because of both the two he speaketh
         who doth either praise, which so he will; for to one end
         their works."
           --Wicksteed's translation, _Paradiso_ xi.

In 1212, three years before the murder of Buondelmonte, the first band
of Franciscans had come to Florence, sent thither by St Francis
himself from Assisi. A few years later, at the invitation of a
Florentine merchant Diodato, who had built a chapel and house as an
act of restitution, St Dominic, from Bologna, sent the Blessed John of
Salerno with twelve friars to occupy this mission at Ripoli, about
three miles beyond where now stands the Gate of S. Niccolò. Thence
they extended their apostolic labours into the city, and when St
Dominic came, at the end of 1219, they had already made progress.
Finally they moved into the city--first to San Pancrazio, and at
length settled at Santa Maria tra le Vigne, a little church then
outside the walls, where B. Giovanni was installed by the Pope's
legate and the bishop in 1221. Before the church, in the present
piazza, St Peter Martyr, the "hammer of the heretics," fought the
Paterini with both spiritual and material arms. At last, the growth of
the order requiring larger room, on St Luke's day, 1278, Cardinal
Latino de' Frangipani laid here the first stone of Santa Maria
Novella.

Where once the little church of Our Lady among the Vines stood outside
the second circuit of the city's walls, rises now the finest Italian
Gothic church in Florence. Less than a year after it had been
commenced, the same Dominican cardinal who had laid the first stone
summoned a mass meeting in the Piazza, and succeeded in patching up a
temporary peace between Guelfs and Ghibellines, and among the Guelf
magnates themselves, 1279. This Cardinal Latino left a memory revered
in Florence, and Fra Angelico, in the picture now in our National
Gallery, placed him among the glorified saints attending upon the
resurrection of Our Lord. Some twenty years later, in November 1301, a
parliament was held within the still unfinished church, at which
another Papal peacemaker, the infamous Charles of Valois, in the
presence of the Priors of the Republic, the Podestà and the Captain,
the bishop and chief citizens, received the _balìa_ to guard Florence
and pacify the Guelfs, and swore on the faith of the son of a king to
preserve the city in peace and prosperity. We have seen how he kept
his word. Santa Maria Novella, in 1304, was the centre of the sincere
and devoted attempts made by Boniface's successor, the sainted
Benedict XI., to heal the wounds of Florence; attempts in which,
throughout Italy, the Dominicans were his "angels of peace," as he
called his missioners. When the Republic finally fell into the hands
of Cosimo dei Medici in 1434, the exiled Pope Eugenius IV. was staying
in the adjoining monastery; it was here that he made his unsuccessful
attempt to mediate, and heard the bitter farewell words of Rinaldo
degli Albizzi: "I blame myself most of all, because I believed that
you, who had been hunted out of your own country, could keep me in
mine."

  [Illustration: IN THE GREEN CLOISTERS, S. MARIA NOVELLA]

The church itself, striped tiger-like in black and white marble,
was constructed from the designs of three Dominican friars, Fra
Ristoro da Campi, Fra Sisto, and Fra Giovanni da Campi. Fra Giovanni
was a scholar or imitator of Arnolfo di Cambio, and the two former
were the architects who restored the Ponte alla Carraia and the Ponte
Santa Trinità after their destruction in 1269. The façade (with the
exception of the lower part, which belongs to the fourteenth century)
was designed by Leo Battista Alberti, whose friends the Rucellai were
the chief benefactors of this church; the lovely but completely
restored pointed arcades on the right, with niches for tombs and
armorial bearings, were designed by Brunelleschi. On the left, though
in part reduced to vile usage, there is a bit comparatively less
altered. The interior was completed soon after the middle of the
fourteenth century, when Fra Jacopo Passavanti--the author of that
model of pure Tuscan prose, _Lo Specchio della vera Penitenza_--was
Prior of the convent. The campanile is said to have been designed by
another Dominican, Fra Jacopo Talenti, the probable architect of the
so-called Spanish Chapel in the cloisters on the left of the church,
of which more presently.

During the great siege of Florence the mantle of Savonarola seemed to
have fallen upon the heroic Prior of Santa Maria Novella, Fra
Benedetto da Foiano. When the news of the alliance between Pope and
Emperor came to Florence, while all Bologna was in festa for the
coronation of the Emperor, Varchi tells us that Fra Benedetto
delivered a great sermon in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, which was
thrown open to all who would come to hear; in which sermon he proved
from passages in the Old and New Testaments that Florence would be
delivered from all dangers, and then enjoy perpetual perfect felicity
in the liberty she so desired. With such grace and eloquence did he
speak, that the vast audience was moved to tears and to joy by turns.
At the end, "with ineffable gestures and words," he gave to the
Gonfaloniere, Raffaello Girolami, a standard upon one side of which
was a Christ victorious over the hostile soldiery, and upon the other
the red Cross of the Florentine Commune, saying: _Cum hoc et in hoc
vinces._ After the capitulation Malatesta Baglioni seized the friar
and sent him to Rome, where he was slowly starved to death in the
dungeon of Sant' Angelo.

The interior was thus not quite finished, when Boccaccio's seven
maidens met here on a Wednesday morning in early spring in that
terrible year of pestilence, 1348; yet we may readily picture to
ourselves the scene described in the introduction to the _Decameron_;
the empty church; the girls in their dark mourning garb, after hearing
Mass, seated together in a side chapel and gradually passing from
telling their beads to discussing more mundane matters; and then, no
sooner do three members of the other sex appear upon the scenes than a
sudden gleam of gladness lights up their faces, and even the plague
itself is forgotten. One of them, indeed, blushed; "she became all
crimson in the face through modesty," says Boccaccio, "because there
was one of their number who was beloved by one of these youths;" but
afterwards found no difficulty in rivalling the others in the
impropriety of her talk.

Entering the western portal, we find ourselves in a nave of rather
large proportions, somewhat dark but not without a glow from the
stained glass windows--adapted above all for preaching. As in Santa
Croce, it is cut across by a line of chapels, thus giving the whole a
T shape, and what represents the apse is merely a deeper and taller
recess behind the high altar. There is nothing much to interest us
here in the nave or aisles, save, by the side of the central door,
one of the very few extant works of Masaccio, a fresco representing
the Blessed Trinity adored by the Madonna and St. John, with two
kneeling donors--portraits of which no amount of restoration can
altogether destroy the truth and grandeur. The Annunciation, on the
opposite side of the door, is a mediocre fresco of the fourteenth
century. The Crucifix above is one of several works of the kind
ascribed to Giotto.

It will be best to take the chapels at the end of the nave and in the
transepts in the order into which they fall, as illustrating the
development of Florentine art.

On the right a flight of steps leads up into the Rucellai chapel
where, half concealed in darkness, hangs the famous picture once
supposed to mark the very birthday of Florentine painting. That
Cimabue really painted a glorious Madonna for this church, which was
worshipped by a king and hailed with acclamation by a rejoicing
people, is to be most firmly and devoutly held. Unfortunately, it
seems highly probable that this picture is not Cimabue's Madonna. It
is decidedly Sienese in character, and, as there is documentary
evidence that Duccio of Siena painted a Madonna for Santa Maria
Novella, and as the attendant Angels are in all respects similar to
those in Duccio's authenticated works, the picture is probably his. It
deserves all veneration, nevertheless, for it is a noble picture in
the truest sense of the word. In the same chapel is the monument of
the Dominican nun, the Beata Villana, by Bernardo Rossellino.

Crossing the church to the chapel in the left transept, the Strozzi
Chapel, we mount into the true atmosphere of the Middle Ages--into one
of those pictured theatres which set before us in part what Dante gave
in full in his _Commedia_. The whole chapel is dedicated to St. Thomas
Aquinas, the glory of the philosophy of the mediæval world and, above
all, of the Dominican order, whose cardinal virtues are extolled in
allegorical fashion on the ceiling; but the frescoes are drawn from
the work of his greatest Florentine disciple, Dante Alighieri, in
whose poem Thomas mainly lives for the non-Catholic world. It contains
all Orcagna's extant work in painting. The altar piece, executed by
Andrea Orcagna in 1357, is the grandest of its kind belonging to the
Giottesque period. Its central motive, of the Saviour delivering the
keys to St. Peter and the Summa to St. Thomas, the spiritual and
philosophical regimens of the mediæval world, is very finely rendered;
while the angelic choir is a foretaste of Angelico. Madonna presents
St. Thomas; the Baptist, St. Peter; Michael and Catherine are in
attendance upon the Queen of Heaven, Lawrence and Paul upon the
Precursor. The predella represents St. Peter walking upon the waves,
with on either side an episode in the life of St. Thomas and a miracle
of St. Lawrence. The frescoes are best seen on a very bright morning,
shortly before noon. The Last Judgment, by Andrea, shows the
traditional representation of the Angels with trumpets and with the
emblems of the Passion, wheeling round the Judge; and the dead rising
to judgment, impelled irresistibly to right or left even before the
sentence is pronounced. Above the one band, kneels the white-robed
Madonna in intercession--type of the Divine Mercy as in Dante; over
the others, at the head of the Apostles, is the Baptist who seems
appealing for judgment--type of the Divine Justice. This placing Mary
and St John opposite to each other, as in Dante's Rose of Paradise, is
typical of Florentine art; Santa Maria del Fiore and San Giovanni are,
as it were, inseparable. Among the blessed is Dante, gazing up in
fixed adoration at the Madonna, as when following St Bernard's prayer
at the close of his Vision; on the other side some of the faces of the
lost are a miracle of expression. The Hell on the right wall, by
Andrea's brother Leonardo, is more immediately taken from the
_Commedia_. The Paradise on the left, or, rather, the Empyrean
Heaven--with the faces _suadi di carità_, Angels and Saints absorbed
in vision and love of God--is by Andrea himself, and is more directly
pictorial than Dante's _Paradiso_ could admit. Christ and the Madonna
are enthroned side by side, whereas we do not actually see Him in
human form in the _Commedia_,--perhaps in accordance with that
reverence which impels the divine poet to make the name _Cristo_ rhyme
with nothing but itself. For sheer loveliness in detail, no other
fourteenth century master produced anything to compare with this
fresco; it may be said to mark the advent of a new element in Italian
art.

Thence we pass into the early Renaissance with Brunelleschi and
Ghiberti, with Ghirlandaio and Filippino Lippi. In the chapel to the
left of the choir hangs Filippo Brunelleschi's famous wooden Crucifix,
carved in friendly rivalry with Donatello. The rival piece,
Donatello's share in this sculptured _tenzone_, has been seen in Santa
Croce.

In the choir are frescoes by Domenico Ghirlandaio, and a fine brass by
Lorenzo Ghiberti. These frescoes were begun in 1486, immediately after
the completion of the Santa Trinità series, and finished in 1490; and,
though devoid of the highest artistic qualities, are eminently
characteristic of their epoch. Though representing scenes from the
life of the Madonna and the Baptist, this is entirely subordinated to
the portrait groups of noble Florentines and their ladies, introduced
as usually utterly uninterested spectators of the sacred events. As
religious pictures they are naught; but as representations of
contemporary Florentine life, most valuable. Hardly elsewhere shall
you see so fine a series of portraits of the men and women of the
early Renaissance; but they have other things to think of than the
Gospel history. Look at the scene of the Angel appearing to Zacharias.
The actual event is hardly noticed; hidden in the throng of citizens,
too busily living the life of the Renaissance to attend to such
trifles; besides, it would not improve their style to read St. Luke.
In the Visitation, the Nativity of the Baptist, the Nativity of the
Blessed Virgin, a fashionable beauty of the period sweeps in with her
attendants--and it is hardly uncharitable to suppose that, if not
herself, at least her painter thought more of her fine clothes than of
her devotional aspect. The portraits of the donors, Giovanni
Tornabuoni and his wife, are on the window wall. In the scene of the
expulsion of Joachim from the Temple, a group of painters stands
together (towards the window); the old cleanly-shaven man in a red hat
is Alessio Baldovinetti, Ghirlandaio's master; next to him, with a lot
of dark hair, dressed in a red mantle and blue vest, is Domenico
Ghirlandaio himself; his pupil and brother-in-law, Sebastiano
Mainardi, and his brother, David Ghirlandaio, are with him--the latter
being the figure with shoulder turned and hat on head. In the
apparition to Zacharias, among the numerous portraits, a group of four
half figures discussing at the foot of the history is of special
interest; three of them are said to represent Marsilio Ficino,
Cristoforo Landini, and Angelo Poliziano (in the middle, slightly
raising his hand); the fourth, turned to speak to Landini, is said by
Vasari to be a famous teacher of Greek, Demetrius, but now supposed to
be Gentile Becchi, a learned bishop of Arezzo. The stained glass was
designed by Filippino Lippi. Under the high altar rests the body of
the Blessed John of Salerno, the "Apostle of Florence," who brought
the first band of Dominicans to the city.

Less admired, but in some respects more admirable, are the frescoes by
Filippino Lippi in the chapel on the right of the choir, almost his
last works, painted about 1502, and very much injured by restoration.
The window is also from his design. The frescoes represent scenes from
the lives of St. John and St. Philip, and are remarkable for their
lavish display of Roman antiquities, in which they challenge
comparison with Andrea Mantegna. The scene of St. Philip exorcising
the dragon is especially fine. Observe how the characteristic
intensity of the school of Botticelli is shown in the way in which the
very statues take part in the action. Mars flourishes his broken
spear, his wolves and kites cower to him for protection from the
emissaries of the new faith, whose triumph is further symbolised in
the two figures above of ancient deities conquered by Angels. An
analogous instance will be found in Botticelli's famous Calumny in the
Uffizi. In this statue of Mars is seen the last rendering of the old
Florentine tradition of their _primo padrone_. Thus, perhaps, did the
new pagans of the Renaissance lovingly idealise "that mutilated stone
which guards the bridge."

The monument of the elder Filippo Strozzi, in the same chapel, is a
fine piece of work by Benedetto da Maiano, with a lovely tondo of the
Madonna and Child attended by Angels. And we should also notice
Giovanni della Robbia's fountain in the sacristy, before passing into
the cloisters.

Here in the cloisters we pass back again into more purely mediæval
thought. Passing some early frescoes of the life of the Madonna--the
dream of Joachim, his meeting St. Anne, the Birth and Presentation of
the Blessed Virgin--which Ruskin believed to be by Giotto himself--we
enter to the left the delicious Green Cloisters; a pleasant lounging
place in summer. In the lunettes along the walls are frescoed scenes
from Genesis in _terra verde_, of which the most notable are by Paolo
Uccello--the Flood and the Sacrifice of Noah. Uccello's interests were
scientific rather than artistic. These frescoes are amazingly clever
exercises in the new art of perspective, the _dolce cosa_ as he called
it when his wife complained of his absorption; but are more curious
than beautiful, and hardly inspire us with more than mild admiration
at the painter's cleverness in poising the figure--which, we regret to
say, he intends for the Almighty--so ingeniously in mid air.

But out of these cloisters, on the right, opens the so-called Spanish
Chapel--the Cappella degli Spagnuoli--one of the rarest buildings in
Italy for the student of mediæval doctrine. Here, as in the Strozzi
Chapel, we are in the grasp of the same mighty spirit that inspired
the _Divina Commedia_ and the _De Monarchia_, although the actual
execution falls far below the design. The chapel--designed by Fra
Jacopo Talenti in 1320--was formerly the chapter-house of the convent;
it seems to have acquired the title of Spanish Chapel in the days of
Duke Cosimo I., when Spaniards swarmed in Florence and were wont to
hold solemn festival here on St. James' day. The frescoes that cover
its ceiling and walls were executed about the middle of the fourteenth
century--according to Vasari by Simone Martini and Taddeo Gaddi,
though this seems highly doubtful. Their general design is possibly
due to Fra Jacopo Passavanti. They set forth the Dominican ideal, the
Church and the world as the Friars Preachers conceived of them, even
as Giotto's famous allegories at Assisi show us the same through
Franciscan glasses. While Orcagna painted the world beyond the grave
in honour of the Angelical Doctor, these artists set forth the present
world as it should be under his direction and that of his brothers,
the "hounds of the Lord," _domini canes_, who defended the _orto
cattolico_.

The vaulted roof is divided into four segments; and the picture in
each segment corresponds to a great fresco on the wall below. On the
wall opposite, as we enter, is represented the supreme event of the
world's history, from which all the rest starts and upon which the
whole hinges, the Passion of Christ, leading up to the Resurrection on
the roof above it. On the segment of the roof over the door is the
Ascension, and on the wall below was shown (now much damaged) how the
Dominicans received and carried out Christ's last injunction to His
disciples. In the left segment of the roof is the Descent of the Holy
Spirit; and beneath it, on the wall, the result of this outpouring
upon the world of intellect is shown in the triumph of Philosophy in
the person of Aquinas, its supreme mediæval exponent. In the right
segment is the Ship of Peter; and, on the wall below, is seen how
Peter becomes a fisher of men, the triumph of his Church under the
guidance of the Dominicans. These two great allegorical frescoes--the
triumph of St. Thomas and the _civil briga_ of the Church--are thus a
more complete working out of the scheme set forth more simply by
Orcagna in his altar piece in the Strozzi Chapel above--the functions
delegated by Christ to Peter and St. Thomas--the power of the Keys and
the doctrine of the _Summa Theologica_.

In the centre of the philosophical allegory, St. Thomas Aquinas is
seated on a Gothic throne, with an open book in his hands bearing the
text from the Book of Wisdom with which the Church begins her lesson
in his honour: _Optavi, et datus est mihi sensus. Invocavi, et venit
in me spiritus sapientiae; et praeposui illam regnis et sedibus._[52]
Over his head hover seven Angels, invested with the emblems of the
three theological and four cardinal virtues; around him are seated the
Apostles and Prophets, in support of his doctrine; beneath his feet
heresiarchs are humbled--Sabellius and Arius, to wit--and even
Averrhoes, who "made the great comment," seems subdued. Below, in
fourteen little shrines, are allegorical figures of the fourteen
sciences which meet and are given ultimate form in his work, and at
the feet of each maiden sits some great exponent of the science. From
right to left, the seven liberal arts of the Trivium and Quadrivium
lead up to the Science of Numbers, represented on earth by Pythagoras;
from left to right, the earthly and celestial sciences lead up to
Dogmatic Theology, represented by Augustine.[53]

  [52] "I desired, and understanding was given me. I prayed, and the
  spirit of Wisdom came upon me; and I preferred her before kingdoms and
  thrones."

  [53] The identification of each science and its representative is
  rather doubtful, especially in the celestial series. From altar to
  centre, Grammar, Rhetoric, and Logic are represented by Aelius
  Donatus, Cicero and Aristotle (or Zeno); Music, Astronomy, Geometry,
  Arithmetic by Tubal Cain, Zoroaster (or Ptolemy), Euclid and
  Pythagoras. From window to centre, Civil Law is represented by
  Justinian, Canon Law by Innocent III., Philosophy apparently by
  Boethius; the next four seem to be Contemplative, Moral, Mystical and
  Dogmatic Theology, and their representatives Jerome, John of Damascus,
  Basil and Augustine--but, with the exception of St. Augustine, the
  identification is quite arbitrary. Possibly if the Logician is Zeno,
  the Philosopher is not Boethius but Aristotle; the figure above,
  representing Philosophy, holds a mirror which seems to symbolise the
  divine creation of the cosmic Universe.

On the opposite wall is the Church militant and triumphant. Before
Santa Maria del Fiore, here symbolising the Church militant, sit the
two ideal guides of man, according to the dual scheme of Dante's _De
Monarchia_--the Pope and the Emperor. On either side are seated in a
descending line the great dignitaries of the Church and the Empire;
Cardinal and Abbot, King and Baron; while all around are gathered the
clergy and the laity, religious of every order, judges and nobles,
merchants and scholars, with a few ladies kneeling on the right, one
of whom is said to be Petrarch's Laura. Many of these figures are
apparently portraits, but the attempts at identification--such as that
of the Pope with Benedict XI., the Emperor with Henry VII.--are
entirely untrustworthy. The Bishop, however, standing at the head of
the clergy, is apparently Agnolo Acciaiuoli, Bishop of Florence; and
the French cavalier, in short tunic and hood, standing opposite to him
at the head of the laity (formerly called Cimabue), is said--very
questionably--to be the Duke of Athens. At the feet of the successors
of Peter and Cæsar are gathered the sheep and lambs of Christ's fold,
watched over by the black and white hounds that symbolise the
Dominicans. On the right, Dominic urges on his watchdogs against the
heretical wolves who are carrying off the lambs of the flock; Peter
Martyr hammers the unbelievers with the weapon of argument alone;
Aquinas convinces them with the light of his philosophic doctrine. But
beyond is Acrasia's Bower of Bliss, a mediaeval rendering of what
Spenser hereafter so divinely sung in the second book of the _Faerie
Queene_. Figures of vice sit enthroned; while seven damsels, Acrasia's
handmaidens, dance before them; and youth sports in the shade of the
forbidden myrtles. Then come repentance and the confessional; a
Dominican friar (not one of the great Saints, but any humble priest of
the order) absolves the penitents; St Dominic appears again, and shows
them the way to Paradise; and then, becoming as little children, they
are crowned by the Angels, and St. Peter lets them through the gate
to join the Church Triumphant. Above in the Empyrean is the Throne of
the Lord, with the Lamb and the four mystical Beasts, and the Madonna
herself standing up at the head of the Angelic Hierarchies.

In the great cloisters beyond, the Ciompi made their headquarters in
1378, under their Eight of Santa Maria Novella; and, at the request of
their leaders, the prior of the convent sent some of his preachers to
furnish them with spiritual consolation and advice.

Passing through the Piazza--where marble obelisks resting on tortoises
mark the goals of the chariot races held here under Cosimo I. and his
successors, on the Eve of St. John--and down the Via della Scala, we
come to the former Spezeria of the convent, still a flourishing
manufactory of perfumes, liqueurs and the like, though no longer in
the hands of the friars. In what was once its chapel, are frescoes by
Spinello Aretino and his pupils, painted at the end of the Trecento,
and representing the Passion of Christ. They are inferior to
Spinello's work at Siena and on San Miniato, but the Christ bearing
the Cross has much majesty, and, in the scene of the washing of the
feet, the nervous action of Judas as he starts up is finely conceived.

The famous Orti Oricellari, the gardens of the Rucellai, lie further
down the Via della Scala. Here in the early days of the Cinquecento
the most brilliant literary circles of Florentine society met; and
there was a sort of revival of the old Platonic Academy, which had
died out with Marsilio Ficino. Machiavelli wrote for these gatherings
his discourses on Livy and his Art of War. Although their meetings
were mainly frequented by Mediceans, some of the younger members were
ardent Republicans; and it was here that a conspiracy was hatched
against the life of the Cardinal Giulio dei Medici, for which Jacopo
da Diacceto and one of the Alamanni died upon the scaffold. In later
days these Orti belonged to Bianca Cappello. At the corner of the
adjoining palace is a little Madonna by Luca della Robbia; and further
on, in a lunette on the right of the former church of San Jacopo in
Ripoli, there is a group of Madonna and Child with St. James and St.
Dominic, probably by Andrea della Robbia. In the Via di Palazzuolo,
the little church of San Francesco dei Vanchetoni contains two small
marble busts of children, exceedingly delicately modelled, supposed to
represent the Gesù Bambino and the boy Baptist; they are ascribed to
Donatello, but recent writers attribute them to Desiderio or
Rossellino.

In the Borgo Ognissanti, where the Swiss of Charles VIII. in 1494,
forcing their way into the city from the Porta al Prato, were driven
back by the inhabitants, are the church of Ognissanti and the
Franciscan convent of San Salvadore. The church and convent originally
belonged to the Frati Umiliati, who settled here in 1251, were largely
influential in promoting the Florentine wool trade, and exceedingly
democratic in their sympathies. Their convent was a great place for
political meetings in the days of Giano della Bella, who used to walk
in their garden taking counsel with his friends. After the siege they
were expelled from Florence, and the church and convent made over to
the Franciscans of the Osservanza, who are said to have brought hither
the habit which St. Francis wore when he received the Stigmata. The
present church was built in the second half of the sixteenth century,
but contains some excellent pictures and frescoes belonging to the
older edifice. Over the second altar to the right is a frescoed Pietà,
one of the earliest works of Domenico Ghirlandaio, with above it the
Madonna taking the Vespucci family under her protection--among them
Amerigo, who was to give his name to the new continent of America.
Further on, over a confessional, is Sandro Botticelli's St. Augustine,
the only fresco of his still remaining in Florence; opposite to it,
over a confessional on the left, is St. Jerome by Domenico
Ghirlandaio; both apparently painted in 1480. In the left transept is
a Crucifix ascribed to Giotto; Vasari tells us that it was the
original of the numerous works of this kind which Puccio Capanna and
others of his pupils multiplied through Italy. In the sacristy is a
much restored fresco of the Crucifixion, belonging to the Trecento.
Sandro Botticelli was buried in this church in 1510, and, two years
later, Amerigo Vespucci in 1512. In the former Refectory of the
convent is a fresco of the Last Supper, painted by Domenico
Ghirlandaio in 1480, and very much finer than his similar work in San
Marco. In the lunette over the portal of the church is represented the
Coronation of the Blessed Virgin, by Giovanni della Robbia.

The Borgo Ognissanti leads hence westward into the Via del Prato, and
through the Porta al Prato, one of the four gates of the third wall of
the city, begun by Arnolfo in 1284; now merely a mutilated torso of
Arnolfo's stately structure, left stranded in the prosaic wilderness
of the modern Viale. The fresco in the lunette is by Michele di
Ridolfo Ghirlandaio. Down towards the Arno a single tower remains from
the old walls, mutilated, solitary and degraded so as to look a mere
modern bit of masonry.

Beyond are the Cascine Gardens, stretching for some two miles between
the Arno and the Mugnone, delicious to linger in, and a sacred place
to all lovers of English poetry. For here, towards the close of 1819,
"in a wood that skirts the Arno, near Florence, and on a day when
that tempestuous wind, whose temperature is at once mild and
animating, was collecting the vapours which pour down the autumnal
rains," Shelley wrote the divinest of all English lyrics: the _Ode to
the West Wind_.

     "Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
     What if my leaves are falling like its own!
     The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

     Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
     Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce,
     My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

     Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
     Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
     And, by the incantation of this verse,

     Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
     Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
     Be through my lips to unawakened earth

     The trumpet of a prophecy! O, wind,
     If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"





  [Illustration: IN THE BOBOLI GARDENS]

CHAPTER XII

_Across the Arno_

     "Come a man destra, per salire al monte,
       dove siede la Chiesa che soggioga
       la ben guidata sopra Rubaconte,
     si rompe del montar l'ardita foga.
       per le scalee che si fero ad etade
       ch'era sicuro il quaderno e la doga."
         --_Dante._


Across the river, partly lying along its bank and partly climbing up
St. George's hill to the south, lies what was the Sesto d'Oltrarno in
the days when old Florence was divided into sextaries, and became the
Quartiere di Santo Spirito when the city was reorganised in quarters
after the expulsion of the Duke of Athens. It was not originally a
part of the city itself. At the time of building the second walls in
the twelfth century (_see_ chapter i.), there were merely three
_borghi_ or suburbs beyond the Arno, inhabited by the poorest
classes, each of the three beginning at the head of the Ponte Vecchio;
the Borgo Pidiglioso to the east, towards the present Via dei Bardi
and Santa Lucia, where the road went on to Rome by way of Figline and
Arezzo; the Borgo di Santa Felicità, to the south, ending in a gate at
the present Piazza San Felice, where the road to Siena commenced; and
the Borgo San Jacopo to the west, with a gate in the present Piazza
Frescobaldi, on the way to Pisa. A few rich and noble families began
to settle here towards the beginning of the thirteenth century. When
the dissensions between Guelfs and Ghibellines came to a head in 1215,
the Nerli and Rossi were Guelfs, the Gangalandi, Ubbriachi and
Mannelli, Ghibellines; and these were then the only nobles of the
Oltrarno, although Villani tells us that "the Frescobaldi and the
Bardi and the Mozzi were already beginning to become powerful." The
_Primo Popolo_ commenced to wall it in, in 1250, with the stones from
dismantled feudal towers; and it was finally included in the third
circle of the walls at the beginning of the fourteenth century--a
point to which we shall return.

As we saw in chapter iii., it was in the Oltrarno that the nobles made
their last stand against the People in 1343, when the Nerli held the
Ponte alla Carraia, the Frescobaldi and Mannelli the Ponte di Santa
Trinità, and the Rossi and Bardi defended the Ponte Vecchio and the
Ponte Rubaconte, with the narrow streets between. In the following
century it was the headquarters of the faction opposed to the Medici,
the Party of the Mountain, as it was called, from the lofty position
of Luca Pitti's great palace. A century more, and it became the seat
of government under the Medicean Grand Dukes, and the whole was
crowned by the fortress of the Belvedere which Buontalenti built in
1590 for Ferdinand I.

At the head of the Ponte Vecchio, to right and left, the Borgo San
Jacopo and the Via dei Bardi still retain something of their old
characteristics and mediæval appearance. In the former especially are
some fine towers remaining of the Rossi, Nerli, Barbadori, and other
families; particularly one which belonged to the Marsili, opposite the
church of San Jacopo. A side street, the Via dei Giudei, once
inhabited by Jews, is still very picturesque. The little church of San
Jacopo, originally built in the eleventh century, but entirely
reconstructed in more recent times, still possesses an old Romanesque
portico. In this church some of the more bitter spirits among the
nobles held a council in 1294, and unanimously decided to murder Giano
della Bella. "The dogs of the people," said Messer Berto Frescobaldi,
who was the spokesman, "have robbed us of honour and office, and we
cannot enter the Palace. If we beat one of our own servants, we are
undone. Wherefore, my lords, it is my rede that we should come forth
from this servitude. Let us take up arms and assemble in the piazza;
let us slay the plebeians, friends and foes alike, so that never again
shall we or our children be subjected to them." His plan, however,
seemed too dangerous to the other nobles. "If our design failed," said
Messer Baldo della Tosa, "we should all be killed"; and it was decided
to proceed by more prudent means, and to disorganise the People and
undermine Giano's credit with them, before taking further action.

At the end of the Borgo San Jacopo, the Frescobaldi had their palaces
in the piazza which still bears their name, at the head of the Ponte
Santa Trinità. Here Charles of Valois took up his headquarters in
November 1301, with the intention of keeping this portion of the city
in case he lost his hold of the rest. Opposite the bridge the Capponi
had their palace; the heroic Piero Capponi lived here; and then the
Gonfaloniere Niccolò, who, accused of favouring the Medici, was
deprived of his office, and died broken-hearted just before the siege.

On the left of the Ponte Vecchio the Via dei Bardi, where the nobles
and retainers of that fierce old house made their last stand against
the People after the Frescobaldi had been forced to surrender, has
been much spoilt of recent years, though a few fine palaces remain,
and some towers, especially two, of the Mannelli and Ridolfi, at the
beginning of the street. In the Via dei Bardi, the fine Capponi Palace
was built for Niccolò da Uzzano at the beginning of the Quattrocento.
The church of Santa Lucia has a Della Robbia relief over the entrance,
and a picture of the school of Fra Filippo in the interior. The street
ends in the Piazza dei Mozzi, opposite the Ponte alle Grazie or Ponte
Rubaconte, where stands the Torrigiani Palace, built by Baccio
d'Agnolo in the sixteenth century.

From the Ponte Vecchio the Via Guicciardini leads to the Pitti Palace,
and onwards to the Via Romana and great Porta Romana. In the Piazza
Santa Felicità a column marks the site of one of St. Peter Martyr's
triumphs over the Paterini; the loggia is by Vasari; the historian
Guicciardini is buried in the church, which contains some second-rate
pictures. Further on, on the right, is the house where Machiavelli
died, a disappointed and misunderstood patriot, in 1527; on the left
is Guicciardini's palace.

The magnificent Palazzo Pitti was commenced shortly after 1440 by
Brunelleschi and Michelozzo, for Luca Pitti, that vain and incompetent
old noble who hoped to eclipse the Medici during the closing days of
the elder Cosimo. Messer Luca grew so confident, Machiavelli tells us,
that "he began two buildings, one in Florence and the other at
Ruciano, a place about a mile from the city; both were in right royal
style, but that in the city was altogether greater than any other that
had ever been built by a private citizen until that day. And to
complete them he shrank from no measures, however extraordinary; for
not only did citizens and private persons contribute and aid him with
things necessary for the building, but communes and corporations lent
him help. Besides this, all who were under ban, and whosoever had
committed murder or theft or anything else for which he feared public
punishment, provided that he were a person useful for the work, found
secure refuge within these buildings." After the triumph of Piero dei
Medici in 1466, Luca Pitti was pardoned, but ruined. "Straightway,"
writes Machiavelli, "he learned what difference there is between
success and failure, between dishonour and honour. A great solitude
reigned in his houses, which before had been frequented by vast
throngs of citizens. In the street his friends and relations feared
not merely to accompany him, but even to salute him, since from some
of them the honours had been taken, from others their property, and
all alike were menaced. The superb edifices which he had commenced
were abandoned by the builders; the benefits which had been heaped
upon him in the past were changed into injuries, honours into insults.
Many of those who had freely given him something of great value, now
demanded it back from him as having been merely lent, and those
others, who had been wont to praise him to the skies, now blamed him
for an ungrateful and violent man. Wherefore too late did he repent
that he had not trusted Niccolò Soderini, and sought rather to die
with honour with arms in hand, than live on in dishonour among his
victorious enemies."

In 1549 the unfinished palace was sold by Luca Pitti's descendants to
Eleonora of Toledo, Duke Cosimo's wife, and it was finished by
Ammanati during the latter half of the sixteenth century; the wings
are a later addition. The whole building, with its huge dimensions and
boldly rusticated masonry, is one of the most monumental and grandiose
of European palaces. It was first the residence of the Medicean Grand
Dukes, then of their Austrian successors, and is now one of the royal
palaces of the King of Italy.

In one of the royal apartments there is a famous picture of
Botticelli's, Pallas taming a Centaur, which probably refers to the
return of Lorenzo the Magnificent to Florence after his diplomatic
victory over the King of Naples and the League, in 1480. The beautiful
and stately Medicean Pallas is wreathed all over with olive branches;
her mantle is green, like that of Dante's Beatrice in the Earthly
Paradise; her white dress is copiously besprinkled with Lorenzo's
crest, the three rings. The Centaur himself is splendidly conceived
and realised--a characteristic Botticellian modification of those
terrible beings who hunt the damned souls of tyrants and robbers
through the river of blood in Dante's Hell. Opposite the Pallas there
is a small tondo, in which the Madonna and four Angels are adoring the
divine Child in a garden of roses and wild strawberries. The latter
was discovered in 1899 and ascribed to Botticelli, but appears to be
only a school piece.

The great glory of the Pitti Palace is its picture gallery, a
magnificent array of masterpieces, hung in sumptuously decorated rooms
with allegorical ceiling-paintings in the overblown and superficial
style of the artists of the decadence--Pietro da Cortona and others of
his kind:--

           "Both in Florence and in Rome
     The elder race so make themselves at home
     That scarce we give a glance to ceilingfuls
     Of such like as Francesco."

So Robert Browning writes of one of Pietro's pupils. The Quattrocento
is, with a few noteworthy exceptions, scarcely represented; but no
collection is richer in the works of the great Italians of the
Cinquecento at the culmination of the Renaissance. We can here, as in
the Uffizi, merely indicate the more important pictures in each room.
At the top of the staircase is a marble fountain ascribed to
Donatello. The names of the rooms are usually derived from the
subjects painted on the ceilings; we take the six principal saloons
first.


In the _Sala dell' Iliade_.

First, the three masterpieces of this room. Fra Bartolommeo's great
altar-piece painted in 1512 for San Marco (208), representing Madonna
and Child surrounded by Saints, with a group of Dominicans attending
upon the mystic marriage of St. Catherine of Siena, is a splendid
picture, but darkened and injured; the two _putti_, making melody at
the foot of Madonna's throne, are quite Venetian in character.

Titian's Cardinal Ippolito dei Medici (201) is one of the master's
grandest portraits; the Cardinal is represented in Hungarian military
costume. Ippolito, like his reputed father the younger Giuliano, was
one of the more respectable members of the elder branch of the Medici;
he was brought up with Alessandro, but the two youths hated each other
mortally from their boyhood. Young and handsome, cultured and lavishly
generous, Ippolito was exceedingly popular and ambitious, and felt
bitterly the injustice of Pope Clement in making Alessandro lord of
Florence instead of him. Clement conferred an archbishopric and other
things upon him, but could by no means keep him quiet. "Aspiring to
temporal greatness," writes Varchi, "and having set his heart upon
things of war rather than affairs of the Church, he hardly knew
himself what he wanted, and was never content." The Pope, towards whom
Ippolito openly showed his contempt, complained that he could not
exert any control over so eccentric and headstrong a character, _un
cervello eteroclito e così balzano_. After the Pope's death, the
Cardinal intrigued with the Florentine exiles in order to supplant
Alessandro, upon which the Duke had him poisoned in 1535, in the
twenty-fifth year of his age. Titian painted him in 1533.

The famous Concert (185), representing a passionate-faced monk of the
Augustinian order at the harpsichord, while an older and more prosaic
ecclesiastic stands behind him with a viol, and a youthful worldling
half carelessly listens, was formerly taken as the standard of
Giorgione's work; it is now usually regarded as an early Titian.
Although much damaged and repainted, it remains one of the most
beautiful of Venetian painted lyrics.

Andrea del Sarto's two Assumptions, one (225) painted before 1526 for
a church at Cortona, the other (191) left unfinished in 1531, show the
artist ineffectually striving after the sublime, and helplessly pulled
down to earth by the draperies of the Apostles round the tomb. Of
smaller works should be noticed: an early Titian, the Saviour (228);
two portraits by Ridolfo Ghirlandaio (224, 207), of which the latter,
a goldsmith, has been ascribed to Leonardo; a lady known as _La
Gravida_ (229), probably by Raphael early in his Florentine period;
Daniele Barbaro by Paolo Veronese (216); Titian's Philip II. of Spain
(200); a male portrait by Andrea del Sarto (184), said, with little
plausibility, to represent himself; a Holy Family (235) by Rubens.


In the _Sala di Saturno_.

Here are some of the choicest pictures in the collection, including a
whole series of Raphael's. Raphael's Madonna del Gran Duca (178)--so
called from its modern purchaser, Ferdinand III.--was painted in 1504
or 1505, either before leaving Urbino or shortly after his arrival in
Florence; it is the sweetest and most purely devotional of all his
Madonnas. Morelli points out that it is strongly reminiscent of
Raphael's first master, Timoteo Viti. The portraits of Angelo Doni and
Maddalena Doni (61 and 59) also belong to the beginning of Raphael's
Florentine epoch, about 1505 or 1506, and show how much he felt the
influence of Leonardo; Angelo Doni, it will be remembered, was the
parsimonious merchant for whom Michelangelo painted the Madonna of the
Tribuna. The Madonna del Baldacchino (165) was commenced by Raphael in
1508, the last picture of his Florentine period, ordered by the Dei
for Santo Spirito; it shows the influence of Fra Bartolommeo in its
composition, and was left unfinished when Pope Julius summoned the
painter to Rome; in its present state, there is hardly anything of
Raphael's about it. The beautiful Madonna della Seggiola (151) is a
work of Raphael's Roman period, painted in 1513 or 1514. The Vision of
Ezekiel (174) is slightly later, painted in 1517 or thereabout, and
shows that Raphael had felt the influence of Michelangelo; one of the
smallest and most sublime of all his pictures; the landscape is less
conventional than we often see in his later works. Neither of the two
portraits ascribed to Raphael in this room (171, 158) can any longer
be accepted as a genuine work of the master.

Andrea del Sarto and Fra Bartolommeo are likewise represented by
masterpieces. The Friar's Risen Christ with Four Evangelists (159),
beneath whom two beautiful _putti_ hold the orb of the world, was
painted in 1516, the year before the painter's death; it is one of the
noblest and most divine representations of the Saviour in the whole
history of art. Andrea's so-called _Disputa_ (172), in which a group
of Saints is discussing the mystery of the Blessed Trinity, painted in
1518, is as superbly coloured as any of the greatest Venetian
triumphs; the Magdalene is again the painter's own wife. Perugino's
Deposition from the Cross (164), painted in 1495, shows the great
Umbrian also at his best.

Among the minor pictures in this room may be noted a pretty little
trifle of the school of Raphael, so often copied, Apollo and the Muses
(167), questionably ascribed to Giulio Romano; and a Nymph pursued by
a Satyr (147), supposed by Morelli to be by Giorgione, now assigned to
Dosso Dossi of Ferrara.


In the _Sala di Giove_.

The treasure of this room is the _Velata_ (245), Raphael's own
portrait of the woman that he loved, to whom he wrote his sonnets, and
whom he afterwards idealised as the Madonna di San Sisto; her
personality remains a mystery. Titian's _Bella_ (18), a rather stolid
rejuvenation of Eleonora Gonzaga, is chiefly valuable for its
magnificent representation of a wonderful Venetian costume. Here are
three works of Andrea del Sarto--the Annunciation (124), the Madonna
in Glory, with four Saints (123), and St John the Baptist (272); the
first is one of his most beautiful paintings. The picture supposed to
represent Andrea and his wife (118) is not by the master himself.
Bartolommeo's St Mark (125) was painted by him in 1514, to show that
he could do large figures, whereas he had been told that he had a
_maniera minuta_; it is not altogether successful. His Deposition from
the Cross (64) is one of his latest and most earnest religious works.
The Three Fates (113) by Rosso Fiorentino is an undeniably powerful
and impressive picture; it was formerly ascribed to Michelangelo. The
Three Ages (110), ascribed to Lorenzo Lotto here, was by Morelli
attributed to Giorgione, and is now assigned by highly competent
critics to a certain Morto da Feltre, of whom little is known save
that he is said to have been Giorgione's successful rival for the
favours of a ripe Venetian beauty; the picture itself, though injured
by restoration, belongs to the same category as the Concert. "In such
favourite incidents of Giorgione's school," writes Walter Pater,
"music or music-like intervals in our existence, life itself is
conceived as a sort of listening--listening to music, to the reading
of Bandello's novels, to the sound of water, to time as it flies."


In the _Sala di Marte_.

The most important pictures of this room are: Titian's portrait of a
young man with a glove (92); the Holy Family, called of the
_Impannata_ or "covered window" (94), a work of Raphael's Roman
period, painted by his scholars, perhaps by Giulio Romano; Cristofano
Allori's Judith (96), a splendid and justly celebrated picture,
showing what exceedingly fine works could be produced by Florentines
even in the decadence (Allori died in 1621); Andrea del Sarto's scenes
from the history of Joseph (87, 88), panels for cassoni or bridal
chests, painted for the marriage of Francesco Borgherini and
Margherita Acciaiuoli; a Rubens, the so-called Four Philosophers (85),
representing himself with his brother, and the scholars Lipsius and
Grotius; Andrea del Sarto's Holy Family (81), one of his last works,
painted in 1529 for Ottaviano dei Medici and said to have been
finished during the siege; Van Dyck's Cardinal Giulio Bentivoglio
(82). It is uncertain whether this Julius II. (79) or that in the
Tribuna of the Uffizi is Raphael's original, but the present picture
appears to be the favourite; both are magnificent portraits of this
terrible old warrior pontiff, who, for all his fierceness, was the
noblest and most enlightened patron that Raphael and Michelangelo had.
It was probably at his bidding that Raphael painted Savonarola among
the Church's doctors and theologians in the Vatican.


In the _Sala di Apollo_ and _Sala di Venere_.

Here, first of all, is Raphael's celebrated portrait of Pope Julius'
unworthy successor, Leo X. (40), the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent;
on the left--that is, the Pope's right hand--is the Cardinal Giulio
dei Medici, afterwards Pope Clement VII.; behind the chair is the
Cardinal Luigi dei Rossi, the descendant of a daughter of Piero il
Gottoso. One of Raphael's most consummate works.

Andrea del Sarto's Pietà (58) was painted in 1523 or 1524 for a
convent of nuns in the Mugello, whither Andrea had taken his wife and
household while the plague raged in Florence; it is one of his finest
works. Titian's Magdalene (67) has been called by Ruskin a
"disgusting" picture; as a pseudo-religious work, it would be hard to
find anything more offensive; but it has undeniably great technical
qualities. His Pietro Aretino (54), on the other hand, is a noble
portrait of an infamous blackguard. Noteworthy are also Andrea del
Sarto's portrait (66), apparently one of his many representations of
himself, and Murillo's Mother and Child (63).

In the _Sala di Venere_, are a superb landscape by Rubens (14),
sometimes called the Hay Harvest and sometimes the Return of the
Contadini; also a fine female portrait, wrongly ascribed to Leonardo
(140); the Triumph of David by Matteo Rosselli (13). It should be
observed that the gems of the collection are frequently shifted from
room to room for the benefit of the copyist.


The _Sala dell' Educazione di Giove_ and following rooms.

A series of smaller rooms, no less gorgeously decorated, adjoins the
Sala dell' Iliade. In the _Sala dell' Educazione di Giove_ are: Fra
Bartolommeo's Holy Family with St. Elizabeth (256), over the door; the
Zingarella or Gipsy Girl (246), a charming little idyllic picture by
Boccaccino of Cremona, formerly ascribed to Garofalo; Philip IV. of
Spain (243) by Velasquez. Carlo Dolci's St Andrew (266) is above his
usual level; but it is rather hard to understand how Guido Reni's
Cleopatra (270) could ever be admired.

In the _Sala di Prometeo_ are some earlier paintings; but those
ascribed to Botticelli, Filippino Lippi, and Ghirlandaio are merely
school-pieces. Fra Filippo Lippi's Madonna and Child with the
Pomegranate (343) is a genuine and excellent work; in the background
are seen the meeting of Joachim and Anne, with the Nativity of the
Blessed Virgin. Crowe and Cavalcasella observe that "this group of the
Virgin and Child reminds one forcibly of those by Donatello or
Desiderio da Settignano," and it shows how much the painters of the
Quattrocento were influenced by the sculptors; the Madonna's face, for
no obvious reason, is said to be that of Lucrezia Buti, the girl whom
Lippo carried off from a convent at Prato. A curious little allegory
(336) is ascribed by Morelli to Filippino Lippi. We should also notice
the beautiful Madonna with Angels adoring the Divine Child in a rose
garden (347), a characteristic Florentine work of the latter part of
the Quattrocento, once erroneously ascribed to Filippino Lippi; an
Ecce Homo in fresco by Fra Bartolommeo (377); a Holy Family by
Mariotto Albertinelli (365); and a tondo by Luca Signorelli (355), in
which St. Catherine is apparently writing at the dictation of the
Divine Child. But the two gems of this room are the head of a Saint
(370) and the portrait of a man in red dress and hat (375) by one of
the earlier painters of the Quattrocento, probably Domenico Veneziano;
"perhaps," writes Mr Berenson, "the first great achievements in this
kind of the Renaissance." Here, too, is a fine portrait by Lorenzo
Costa (376) of Giovanni Bentivoglio.

In the _Sala del Poccetti_, _Sala della Giustizia_, _Sala di Flora_,
_Sala dei Putti_, the pictures are, for the most part, unimportant.
The so-called portrait of the _bella Simonetta_, the innamorata of
Giuliano dei Medici (353), is not authentic and should not be ascribed
to Sandro Botticelli. There are some fairly good portraits; a Titian
(495), a Sebastiano del Piombo (409), Duke Cosimo I. by Bronzino
(403), Oliver Cromwell by Lely (408). Calumny by Francia Bigio (427)
is curious as a later rendering of a theme that attracted the greatest
masters of the Quattrocento (Botticelli, Mantegna, Luca Signorelli all
tried it). Lovers of Browning will be glad to have their attention
called to the Judith of Artemisia Gentileschi (444): "a wonder of a
woman painting too."

A passage leads down two flights of steps, with occasional glimpses
of the Boboli Gardens, through corridors of Medicean portraits,
Florentine celebrities, old pictures of processions in piazza, and the
like. Then over the Ponte Vecchio, with views of the Arno on either
hand as we cross, to the Uffizi.

       *       *       *       *       *

Behind the Pitti Palace are the delicious Boboli Gardens, commenced
for Duke Cosimo I., with shady walks and exquisitely framed views of
Florence. In a grotto near the entrance are four unfinished statues by
Michelangelo; they are usually supposed to have been intended for the
tomb of Julius II., but may possibly have been connected with the
projected façade of San Lorenzo.

Nearly opposite the Palazzo Pitti is the Casa Guidi, where the
Brownings lived and wrote. Here Elizabeth Barrett Browning died in
June 1861, she who "made of her verse a golden ring linking England to
Italy"; these were the famous "Casa Guidi windows" from which she
watched the liberation and unification of Italy:--

     "I heard last night a little child go singing
       'Neath Casa Guidi windows, by the church,
     _O bella libertà, O bella!_--stringing
       The same words still on notes he went in search
     So high for, you concluded the upspringing
       Of such a nimble bird to sky from perch
     Must leave the whole bush in a tremble green,
       And that the heart of Italy must beat,
     While such a voice had leave to rise serene
       'Twixt church and palace of a Florence street."

The church in question, San Felice, contains a good picture of St.
Anthony, St. Rock and St. Catherine by some follower of Botticelli and
Filippino Lippi; also a Crucifixion of the school of Giotto. Thence
the Via Mazzetta leads into the Piazza Santo Spirito, at the corner
of which is the Palazzo Guadagni, built by Cronaca at the end of the
Quattrocento; with fine iron work, lantern holders and the like, on
the exterior.

The present church of Santo Spirito--the finest Early Renaissance
church in Florence--was built between 1471 and 1487, after
Brunelleschi's designs, to replace his earlier building which had been
burned down in 1471 on the occasion of the visit of Galeazzo Maria
Sforza to Lorenzo the Magnificent and his brother. It is a fine
example of Brunelleschi's adaptation of the early basilican type, is
borne upon graceful Corinthian columns and nobly proportioned. The
octagonal sacristy is by Giuliano da San Gallo and Cronaca, finished
in 1497, and the campanile by Baccio d'Agnolo at the beginning of the
sixteenth century.

The stained glass window over the entrance was designed by Perugino.
In the right transept is an excellent picture by Filippino Lippi;
Madonna and Child with the little St. John, St. Catherine and St.
Nicholas, with the donor, Tanai de' Nerli, and his wife. Also in the
right transept is the tomb of the Capponi; Gino, the conqueror of Pisa
and historian of the Ciompi; Neri, the conqueror of the Casentino; and
that great republican soldier and hero, Piero Capponi, who had saved
Florence from Charles of France and fell in the Pisan war. The vision
of St. Bernard is an old copy from Perugino. None of the other
pictures in the church are more than school pieces; there are two in
the left transept ascribed to Filippino's disappointing pupil,
Raffaellino del Garbo--the Trinità with St. Mary of Egypt and St.
Catherine, and the Madonna with Sts. Lawrence, Stephen, John and
Bernard. The latter picture is by Raffaellino di Carlo.

During the last quarter of the fourteenth century the convent of
Santo Spirito--which is an Augustinian house--was the centre of a
circle of scholars, who represent an epoch intermediate between the
great writers of the Trecento and the humanists of the early
Quattrocento. Prominent among them was Coluccio Salutati, who for many
years served the Republic as Chancellor and died in 1406. He was
influential in founding the first chair of Greek, and his letters on
behalf of Florence were so eloquent and powerful that the "great
viper," Giovanni Galeazzo Visconti, declared that he dreaded one of
them more than many swords. Also Filippo Villani, the nephew of the
great chroniclers, Giovanni and Matteo, who had succeeded Boccaccio as
lecturer on Dante. They met here with other kindred spirits in the
cell of Fra Luigi Marsili, a learned monk and impassioned worshipper
of Petrarch, upon whose great crusading canzone--_O aspettata in ciel,
beata e bella_--he wrote a commentary which is still extant. Fra Luigi
died in 1394. A century later, the monks of this convent took a
violent part in opposition to Savonarola; and it was here, in the
pulpit of the choir of the church, that Landucci tells us that he
heard the bull of excommunication read "by a Fra Leonardo, their
preacher, and an adversary of the said Fra Girolamo,"--"between two
lighted torches and many friars," as he rather quaintly puts it.

"The Carmine's my cloister: hunt it up," says Browning's Lippo Lippi
to his captors; and the Via Mazzetta and the Via Santa Monaca will
take us to it. This church of the Carmelites, Santa Maria del Carmine,
was consecrated in 1422; and, almost immediately after, the mighty
series of frescoes was begun in the Brancacci Chapel at the end of the
right transept--frescoes which were to become the school for all
future painting. In the eighteenth century the greater part of the
church was destroyed by fire, but this chapel was spared by the
flames, and the frescoes, though terribly damaged and grievously
restored, still remain on its walls.

This Brancacci Chapel of the Carmine plays the same part in the
history of painting as the bronze gates of the Baptistery in that of
sculpture. It was in that same eventful year, 1401, of the famous
competition between Ghiberti and Brunelleschi, that the new Giotto was
born--Tommaso, the son of a notary in Castello San Giovanni di
Valdarno. With him, as we saw in chapter iii., the second great epoch
of Italian painting, the Quattrocento, or Epoch of Character, opens.
His was a rare and piquant personality; _persona astrattissima e molto
a caso_, says Vasari, "an absent-minded fellow and very casual."
Intent upon his art, he took no care of himself and thought nothing of
the ordinary needs and affairs of the world, though always ready to do
others a good turn. From his general negligence and untidiness, he was
nicknamed _Masaccio_--"hulking Tom"--which has become one of the most
honourable names in the history of art. The little chapel in which we
now stand and survey his handiwork, or what remains of it, is nothing
less than the birthplace of modern painting. Sculpture had indeed
preceded painting in its return to nature and in its direct study of
the human form, and the influence of Donatello lies as strongly over
all the painters of the Quattrocento. Vasari even states that Masolino
da Panicale (Masolino = "dear little Tom"), Masaccio's master, had
been one of Ghiberti's assistants in the casting of the bronze gates,
but this is questionable; it is possible that he had been Ghiberti's
pupil, though he learned the principles of painting from Gherardo
Starnina, one of the last artists of the Trecento. It was shortly
after 1422 that Masolino commenced this great series of frescoes
setting forth the life of St. Peter; within the next few years
Masaccio continued his work; and, more than half a century later, in
1484, Filippino Lippi took it up where Masaccio had left off, and
completed the series.

Masolino's contribution to the whole appears to be confined to three
pictures: St. Peter preaching, with Carmelites in the background to
carry his doctrines into fifteenth century Florence, on the left of
the window; the upper row of scenes on the right wall, representing
St. Peter and St. John raising the cripple at the Beautiful Gate of
the Temple, and the healing of Tabitha (according to others, the
resuscitation of Petronilla); and the narrow fresco of the Fall of
Adam and Eve, on the right of the entrance. Some have also ascribed to
him the striking figure of St. Peter enthroned, attended by
Carmelites, while the faithful approach to kiss his feet--the picture
in the corner on the left which, in a way, sets the keynote to the
whole--but it is more probably the work of Masaccio (others ascribe it
to Filippino). Admirable though these paintings are, they exhibit a
certain immaturity as contrasted with those by Masaccio: in the
Raising of Tabitha, for instance, those two youths with their odd
headgear might almost have stepped out of some Giottesque fresco; and
the rendering of the nude in the Adam and Eve, though wonderful at
that epoch, is much inferior to Masaccio's opposite. Nevertheless,
Masolino's grave and dignified figures introduced the type that
Masaccio was soon to render perfect.

From the hand of Masaccio are the Expulsion from Paradise; the Tribute
Money; the Raising of the Dead Youth (in part); and (probably) the St.
Peter enthroned, on the left wall; St. Peter and St. John healing the
sick with their shadow, under Masolino's Peter preaching (and the
figure behind with a red cap, leaning on a stick, is Masaccio's pious
portrait of his master Masolino himself); St. Peter baptising, St.
Peter and St. John giving alms, on the opposite side of the window.
Each figure is admirably rendered, its character perfectly realised;
Masaccio may indeed be said to have completed what Giotto had begun,
and freed Italian art from the mannerism of the later followers of
Giotto, even as Giotto himself had delivered her from Byzantine
formalism. "After Giotto," writes Leonardo da Vinci, "the art of
painting declined again, because every one imitated the pictures that
were already done; thus it went on from century to century until
Tommaso of Florence, nicknamed Masaccio, showed by his perfect works
how those who take for their standard any one but Nature--the mistress
of all masters--weary themselves in vain."[54] This return to nature
is seen even in the landscape, notably in the noble background to the
Tribute Money; but above all, in his study of man and the human form.
"For the first time," says Kugler, "his aim is the study of form for
itself, the study of the external conformation of man. With such an
aim is identified a feeling which, in beauty, sees and preserves the
expression of proportion; and in repose or motion, the expression of
an harmonious development of the powers of the human frame." For sheer
dignity and grandeur there is nothing to compare with it, till we come
to the work of Raphael and Michelangelo in the Vatican; the
composition of the Tribute Money and the Healing of the Sick initiated
the method of religious illustration that reached its ultimate
perfection in Raphael--what has been called giving Greek form to
Hebrew thought. The treatment of the nude especially seemed a novel
thing in its day; the wonderful modelling of the naked youth shivering
with the cold, in the scene of St. Peter baptising, was hailed as a
marvel of art, and is cited by Vasari as one of the _cose rarissime_
of painting. In the scene of the Tribute Money, the last Apostle on
our right (in the central picture where our Lord and His disciples are
confronted by the eager collector) whose proud bearing is hardly
evangelical, is Masaccio himself, with scanty beard and untidy hair.
Although less excellent than the Baptism as a study of the nude, the
Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Eden is a masterpiece of which it is
impossible to speak too highly. Our _primi parenti_, weighed down with
the consciousness of ineffable tragedy, are impelled irresistibly
onward by divine destiny; they need not see the Angel in his flaming
robe on his cloud of fire, with his flashing sword and out-stretched
hand; terrible in his beauty as he is to the spectator, he is as
nothing to them, compared with the face of an offended God and the
knowledge of the _tanto esilio_. Surely this is how Dante himself
would have conceived the scene.

  [54] In Richter's _Literary Works of Leonardo da Vinci_. Leonardo
  rather too sweepingly ignores the fact that there were a few excellent
  masters between the two.

Masaccio died at Rome in 1428, aged twenty-seven years. In his short
life he had set modern painting on her triumphant progress, and his
frescoes became the school for all subsequent painters, "All in
short," says Vasari, "who have sought to acquire their art in its
perfection, have constantly repaired to study it in this chapel, there
imbibing the precepts and rules necessary to be followed for the
command of success, and learning to labour effectually from the
figures of Masaccio." If he is to rank among "the inheritors of
unfulfilled renown," Masaccio may be said to stand towards Raphael as
Keats towards Tennyson. Masolino outlived his great pupil for several
years, and died about 1435.

The fresco of the Raising up of the dead Youth, left unfinished by
Masaccio when he left Florence for Rome, was completed by Filippino
Lippi (the son of that run-a-way Carmelite in whom the spirit of
Masaccio was said to have lived again), in 1484. The five figures on
the left appear to be from Filippino's hand (the second from the end
is said to be Luigi Pulci, the poet), as also the resuscitated boy
(said to be Francesco Granacci the painter, who was then about fifteen
years old) and the group of eight on the right. Under Masaccio's Adam
and Eve, he painted St. Paul visiting St. Peter in prison; under
Masolino's Fall, the Liberation of Peter by the Angel, two exceedingly
beautiful and simple compositions. And, on the right wall of the
chapel, St. Peter and St. Paul before the Proconsul and the
Crucifixion of St. Peter are also by Filippino. In the Crucifixion
scene, which is inferior to the rest, the last of the three spectators
on our right, wearing a black cap, is Filippino's master, Sandro
Botticelli. In the presence of the Proconsul, the elderly man with a
keen face, in a red cap to the right of the judge, is Antonio
Pollaiuolo; and, on our right, the youth whose head appears in the
corner is certainly Filippino himself--a kind of signature to the
whole.

Apart from the Brancacci chapel, the interest of the Carmine is mainly
confined to the tomb of the noble and simple-hearted ex-Gonfaloniere,
Piero Soderini (who died in 1513), in the choir; it was originally by
Benedetto da Rovezzano, but has been restored. There are frescoes in
the sacristy, representing the life of St. Cecilia, by one of Giotto's
later followers, possibly Spinello Aretino, and, in the cloisters, a
noteworthy Madonna of the same school, ascribed to Giovanni da Milano.

Beyond the Carmine, westwards, is the Borgo San Frediano, now, as in
olden time, the poorest part of Florence. It was the ringing of the
bell of the Carmine that gave the signal for the rising of the Ciompi
in 1378. Unlike their neighbours, the Augustinians of Santo Spirito,
the good fathers of Our Lady of Mount Carmel were for the most part
ardent followers of Savonarola, and, on the first of October 1497, one
of them preached an open-air sermon near the Porta San Frediano, in
which he declared that he himself had had a special revelation from
God on the subject of Fra Girolamo's sanctity, and that all who
resisted the Friar would be horribly punished; even Landucci admits
that he talked arrant nonsense, _pazzie_. The parish church of this
district, San Frediano in Cestello, is quite uninteresting. At the end
of the Via San Frediano is the great Porta San Frediano, of which more
presently.

The gates and walls of Oltrarno were built between 1324 and 1327, in
the days of the Republic's great struggle with Castruccio
Interminelli. Unlike those on the northern bank, they are still in
part standing. There are five gates on this side of the river--the
Porta San Niccolò, the Porta San Miniato, the Porta San Giorgio, the
Porta Romana or Por San Piero Gattolino, and the Porta San Frediano.
It was all round this part of the city that the imperial army lay
during the siege of 1529 and 1530.

On the east of the city, on the banks of the Arno, rises first the
Porta San Niccolò--mutilated and isolated, but the only one of the
gates that has retained a remnant of its ancient height and dignity.
In a lunette on the inner side is a fresco of 1357--Madonna and Child
with Saints, Angels and Prophets. Around are carved the lilies of the
Commune. On the side facing the hill are the arms of the Parte Guelfa
and of the People, with the lily of the Commune between them. Within
the gate the Borgo San Niccolò leads to the church of San Niccolò,
which contains a picture by Neri di Bicci and one of the Pollaiuoli,
and four saints ascribed to Gentile da Fabriano. It is one of the
oldest Florentine churches, though not interesting in its present
state. There is an altogether untrustworthy tradition that
Michelangelo was sheltered in the tower of this church after the
capitulation of the city, but he seems to have been more probably in
the house of a trusted friend. Pope Clement ordered that he should be
sought for, but left at liberty and treated with all courtesy if he
agreed to go on working at the Medicean monuments in San Lorenzo; and,
hearing this, the sculptor came out from his hiding place. It may be
observed that San Niccolò was a most improbable place for him to have
sought refuge in, as Malatesta Baglioni had his headquarters close by.

Beyond the Porta San Niccolò is the Piano di Ripoli, where the Prince
of Orange had his headquarters. Before his exile Dante possessed some
land here. It was here that the first Dominican house was established
in Tuscany under St Dominic's companion, Blessed John of Salerno. Up
beyond the terminus of the tramway a splendid view of Florence can be
obtained.

Near the Porta San Niccolò the long flight of stairs mounts up the
hill of _San Francesco e San Miniato_, which commands the city from
the south-east, to the Piazzale Michelangelo just below the church. A
long and exceedingly beautiful drive leads also to this Piazzale from
the Porta Romana--the Viale dei Colli--and passes down again to the
Barriera San Niccolò by the Viale Michelangelo. This Viale dei Colli,
at least, is one of those few works which even those folk who make a
point of sneering at everything done in Florence since the unification
of Italy are constrained to admire. It would seem that even in the
thirteenth century there were steps of some kind constructed up the
hill-side to the church. In that passage from the _Purgatorio_ (canto
xii.) which I have put at the head of this chapter, Dante compares the
ascent from the first to the second circle of Purgatory to this climb:
"As on the right hand, to mount the hill where stands the church which
overhangs the well-guided city, above Rubaconte, the bold abruptness
of the ascent is broken by the steps that were made in the age when
the ledger and the stave were safe."[55]

  [55] The ledger and the stave (_il quaderno e la doga_): "In 1299
  Messer Niccola Acciaiuoli and Messer Baldo d' Aguglione abstracted
  from the public records a leaf containing the evidence of a
  disreputable transaction, in which they, together with the Podestà,
  had been engaged. At about the same time Messer Durante de'
  Chiaramontesi, being officer of the customs for salt, took away a
  stave (_doga_) from the standard measure, thus making it
  smaller."--_A. J. Butler._

The Piazzale, adorned with bronze copies of Michelangelo's great
statues, commands one of the grandest views of Florence, with the
valley of the Arno and the mountains round, that "in silence listen
for the word said next," as Mrs Browning has it. Up beyond is the
exceedingly graceful Franciscan church of San Salvadore al Monte--"the
purest vessel of Franciscan simplicity," a modern Italian poet has
called it--built by Cronaca in the last years of the fifteenth
century. It contains a few works by Giovanni della Robbia. It was as
he descended this hill with a few armed followers that Giovanni
Gualberto met and pardoned the murderer of his brother; a small chapel
or tabernacle, on the way up from the convent to San Miniato, still
marks the spot, but the Crucifix which is said to have bowed down its
head towards him is now preserved in Santa Trinità.

  [Illustration: THE FORTIFICATIONS OF MICHELANGELO]

This Monte di San Francesco e di San Miniato overlooks the whole city,
and Florence lay at the mercy of whoever got possession of it.
Varchi in his history apologises for those architects who built the
walls of the city by reminding us that, in their days, artillery was
not even dreamed of, much less invented. Michelangelo armed the
campanile of San Miniato, against which the fiercest fire of the
imperialists was directed, and erected bastions covering the hill,
enclosing it, as it were, within the walls up from the Porta San
Miniato and down again to the Porta San Niccolò. It was intrusted to
the guard of Stefano Colonna, who finally joined Malatesta Baglioni in
betraying the city. Some bits of Michelangelo's work remain near the
Basilica, which itself is one of the most venerable edifices of the
kind in Tuscany; the earliest Florentine Christians are said to have
met here in the woods, during the reign of Nero, and here Saint
Miniatus, according to tradition the son of an Armenian king, lived in
his hermitage until martyred by Decius outside the present Porta alla
Croce. In the days of Gregory the Great, San Frediano of Lucca came
every year with his clergy to worship the relics of Miniatus; a
basilica already stood here in the time of Charlemagne; and the
present edifice is said to have been begun in 1013 by the Bishop
Alibrando, with the aid of the Emperor St Henry and his wife
Cunegunda. It was held by the Benedictines, first the black monks and
then the Olivetans who took it over from Gregory XI. in 1373. The new
Bishops of Florence, the first time they set foot out of the city,
came here to sing Mass. In 1553 the monastery was suppressed by Duke
Cosimo I., and turned into a fortress.

San Miniato al Monte is one of the earliest and one of the finest
examples of the Tuscan Romanesque style of architecture. Both interior
and exterior are adorned with inlaid coloured marble, of simple
design, and the fine "nearly classical" pillars within are probably
taken from some ancient Roman building. Fergusson remarks that, but
for the rather faulty construction of the façade, "it would be
difficult to find a church in Italy containing more of classical
elegance, with perfect appropriateness for the purposes of Christian
worship." In the crypt beneath the altar is the tomb of San Miniato
and others of the Decian martyrs. The great mosaic on the upper part
of the apse was originally executed at the end of the thirteenth
century. The Early Renaissance chapel in the nave was constructed by
Michelozzo in 1448 for Piero dei Medici, to contain Giovanni
Gualberto's miraculous Crucifix. In the left aisle is the Cappella di
San Jacopo with the monument of the Cardinal James of Portugal, who
"lived in the flesh as if he were freed from it, like an Angel rather
than a man, and died in the odour of sanctity at the early age of
twenty-six," in 1459. This tomb by Antonio Rossellino is the third of
the "three finest Renaissance tombs in Tuscany," the other two being
those of Leonardo Bruni (1444) by Antonio's brother Bernardo, and
Carlo Marsuppini by Desiderio (1453), both of which we have seen in
Santa Croce. Mr Perkins observes that the present tomb preserves the
golden mean in point of ornament between the other two. The Madonna
and Child with the Angels, watching over the young Cardinal's repose,
are especially beautiful. The Virtues on the ceiling are by Luca della
Robbia, and the Annunciation opposite the tomb by Alessio
Baldovinetti. The Gothic sacristy was built for one of the great
Alberti family, Benedetto di Nerozzo, in 1387, and decorated shortly
after with a splendid series of frescoes by Spinello Aretino, setting
forth the life of St. Benedict. These are Spinello's noblest works and
the last great creation of the genuine school of Giotto. Especially
fine are the scenes with the Gothic king Totila, and the death and
apotheosis of the Saint, which latter may be compared with Giotto's
St. Francis in Santa Croce. The whole is like a painted chapter of St.
Gregory's Dialogues.

  [Illustration: PORTA SAN GIORGIO]

The Porta San Miniato, below the hill, almost at the foot of the
Basilica, is little more than a gap in the wall. On both sides are the
arms of the Commune and the People, the Cross of the latter outside
the lily of the former. Upwards from the Porta San Miniato to the
Porta San Giorgio a glorious bit of the old wall remains, clad inside
and out with olives, running up the hillside of San Giorgio; even some
remnants of the old towers are standing, two indeed having been only
partially demolished. Beneath the former Medicean fortress and upper
citadel of Belvedere stands the Porta San Giorgio. This, although
small, is the most picturesque of all the gates of Florence. On its
outer side is a spirited bas-relief of St. George and the Dragon in
stone--of the end of the fourteenth century--over the lily of the
Commune; in the lunette, on the inner side, is a fresco painted in
1330--probably by Bernardo Daddi--of Santa Maria del Fiore enthroned
with the Divine Babe between St. George and St. Leonard. This was the
only gate held by the nobles in the great struggle of 1343, when the
banners of the people were carried across the bridge in triumph, and
the Bardi and Frescobaldi fought from street to street; through it the
magnates had secretly brought in banditti and retainers from the
country, and through it some of the Bardi fled when the people swept
down upon their palaces. Inside the gate the steep Via della Costa San
Giorgio winds down past Galileo's house to Santa Felicità. Outside the
gate the Via San Leonardo leads, between olive groves and vineyards,
into the Viale dei Colli. In the curious little church of San Leonardo
in Arcetri, on the left, is an old _ambone_ or pulpit from the
demolished church of San Piero Scheraggio, with ancient bas-reliefs.
This pulpit is traditionally supposed to have been a part of the
spoils in the destruction of Fiesole; it appears to belong to the
latter part of the twelfth century.

The great Porta Romana, or Porta San Piero Gattolino, was originally
erected in 1328; it is still of imposing dimensions, though its
immediate surroundings are somewhat prosaic. Many a Pope and Emperor
has passed through here, to or from the eternal city; the marble
tablets on either side record the entrance of Leo X. in 1515, on his
way from Rome to Bologna to meet Francis I. of France, and of Charles
V. in 1536 to confirm the infamous Duke Alessandro on the throne--a
confirmation which the dagger of Lorenzino happily annulled in the
following year. It was here that Pope Leo's brother, Piero dei Medici,
had made his unsuccessful attempt to surprise the city on April 28th
1497, with some thousand men or more, horse and foot. A countryman at
daybreak had seen them resting and breakfasting on the way, some few
miles from the city; by taking short cuts over the country, he evaded
their scouts who were intercepting all persons passing northwards, and
reached Florence with the news just at the morning opening of the
gate. The result was that the Magnifico Piero and his braves found it
closed in their faces and the forces of the Signoria guarding the
walls, so, after ignominiously skulking for a few hours out of range
of the artillery, they fled back towards Siena.

Near the Porta Romana the Viale dei Colli commences to the left, as
the Viale Machiavelli; and, straight on, the beautifully shady
Stradone del Poggio Imperiale runs up to the villa of that name, built
for Maria Maddalena of Austria in 1622. The statues at the beginning
of the road were once saints on the second façade of the Duomo. It was
on the rising ground that divides the Strada Romana from the present
Stradone that the famous convent of Monticelli stood, recorded in
Dante's _Paradiso_ and Petrarca's _Trionfo della Pudicizia_, in which
Piccarda Donati took the habit of St. Clare, and from which she was
dragged by her brother Corso to marry Rossellino della Tosa:--

     "Perfetta vita ed alto merto inciela
       donna più su, mi disse, alla cui norma
       nel vostro mondo giù si veste e vela,

     perchè in fino al morir si vegghi e dorma
       con quello sposo ch'ogni voto accetta,
       che caritate a suo piacer conforma.

     Dal mondo, per seguirla, giovinetta
       fuggi'mi, e nel suo abito mi chiusi,
       e promisi la via della sua setta.

     Uomini poi, a mal più ch'al bene usi,
       fuor mi rapiron della dolce chiostra;
       e Dio si sa qual poi mia vita fusi."[56]

  [56] "Perfected life and high desert enheaveneth a lady more aloft,"
  she said, "by whose rule down in your world there are who clothe and
  veil themselves,

  That they, even till death, may wake and sleep with that Spouse who
  accepteth every vow that love hath made conform with his good
  pleasure.

  From the world, to follow her, I fled while yet a girl, and in her
  habit I enclosed myself, and promised the way of her company.

  Thereafter men more used to ill than good tore me away from the sweet
  cloister; and God doth know what my life then became."--_Paradiso_
  iii. Wicksteed's translation.

It was at Poggio Imperiale, then called the Poggio dei Baroncelli,
that a famous combat took place during the early days of the siege, in
which Ludovico Martelli and Dante da Castiglione fought two
Florentines who were serving in the imperial army, Giovanni Bandini
and Bertino Aldobrandini. Both Martelli, the original challenger, and
Aldobrandini were mortally wounded. Martelli's real motive in sending
the challenge is said to have been that he and Bandini were rivals for
the favours of a Florentine lady, Marietta de' Ricci. Among the many
beautiful villas and gardens which stud the country beyond Poggio
Imperiale, are Galileo's Tower, from which he made his astronomical
observations, and the villa in which he was visited by Milton. Near
Santa Margherita a Montici, to the east, is the villa in which the
articles of capitulation were arranged by the Florentine ambassadors
with Ferrante Gonzaga, commander of the Imperial troops, and Baccio
Valori, commissary of the Pope. But already Malatesta had opened the
Porta Romana and turned his artillery against the city which he had
solemnly sworn to defend.

Beyond the Porta Romana the road to the right of Poggio Imperiale
leads to the valley of the Ema, above which the great Certosa rises on
the hill of Montaguto. Shortly before reaching the monastery the Ema
is crossed--an insignificant stream in which Cacciaguida (in
_Paradiso_ xvi.) rather paradoxically regrets that Buondelmonte was
not drowned on his way to Florence: "Joyous had many been who now are
sad, had God committed thee unto the Ema the first time that thou
camest to the city." The Certosa itself, that "huge battlemented
convent-block over the little forky flashing Greve," as Browning calls
it, was founded by Niccolò Acciaiuoli, the Florentine Grand Seneschal
of Naples, in 1341; it is one of the finest of the later mediæval
monasteries. Orcagna is said to have built one of the side chapels of
the church, which contains a fine early Giottesque altarpiece; and in
a kind of crypt there are noble tombs of the Acciaiuoli--one, the
monument of the founder, being possibly by Orcagna, and one of the
later ones ascribed (doubtfully) to Donatello. In the chapter-house
are a Crucifixion by Mariotto Albertinelli, and the monument of
Leonardo Buonafede by Francesco da San Gallo. From the convent and
further up the valley, there are beautiful views. About three miles
further on is the sanctuary and shrine of the Madonna dell' Impruneta,
built for the miraculous image of the Madonna, which was carried down
in procession to Florence in times of pestilence and danger.
Savonarola especially had placed great faith in the miraculous powers
of this image and these processions; and during the siege it remained
in Florence ceremoniously guarded in the Duomo, a kind of mystic
Palladium.

Between the Porta Romana and Porta San Frediano some tracts of the
city wall remain, but the whole is painfully prosaic. The Porta San
Frediano itself is a massive structure, erected between 1324 and 1327,
possibly by Andrea Pisano; it need hardly be repeated that we cannot
judge of the original mediæval appearance of the gates of Florence,
with their towers and ante-portals, even from the least mutilated of
their present remnants. It was through this gate that the Florentine
army passed in triumph in 1363 with their long trains of captured
Pisans; and here, after Pisa had shaken off for a while the yoke,
Charles of France rode in as a conqueror on November 17, 1494,
Savonarola's new Cyrus, and was solemnly received at the gate by the
Signoria. Within the gate a strip of wall runs down to the river, with
two later towers built by Medicean grand dukes. At the end is a chapel
built in 1856, and containing a Pietà from the walls of a demolished
convent--ascribed without warrant to Domenico Ghirlandaio.

It was somewhere near here that S. Frediano, coming from Lucca to pay
his annual visit to the shrine of San Miniato, miraculously crossed
the Arno in flood. Outside the gate, a little off the Leghorn road to
the left, is the suppressed abbey of Monte Oliveto, and beyond it, to
the south, the hill of Bellosguardo--both points from which splendid
views of Florence and its surroundings are obtained.

These dream-like glimpses of the City of Flowers, which every coign of
vantage seems to give us round Florence--might we not, sometimes,
imagine that we had stumbled unawares upon the Platonic City of the
Perfect? There are two lines from one of Dante's canzoni in praise of
his mystical lady that rise to our mind at every turn:--

     "Io non la vidi tante volte ancora,
     ch'io non trovassi in lei nuova bellezza,"




CHAPTER XIII

_Conclusion_


The setting of Florence is in every way worthy of the gem which it
encloses. On each side of the city and throughout its province
beautiful walks and drives lead to churches, villas and villages full
of historical interest or enriched with artistic treasures. I can here
merely indicate a very few such places.

To the north of the city rises Fiesole on its hill, of which the
historical connection with Florence has been briefly discussed in
chapter i. At its foot stands the Dominican convent, in which Fra
Giovanni, whom we know better as the Beato Angelico, took the habit of
the order, and in which both his brother, Fra Benedetto, and himself
were in turn priors. Savonarola's fellow martyr, Fra Domenico da
Pescia, was likewise prior of this house. The church contains a
Madonna by Angelico, with the background painted in by Lorenzo di
Credi (its exquisitely beautiful predella is now one of the chief
ornaments of the National Gallery of London), a Baptism of Christ by
Lorenzo di Credi, and an Adoration of the Magi designed by Andrea del
Sarto and executed by Sogliani. A little to the left is the famous
Badia di Fiesole, originally of the eleventh century, but rebuilt for
Cosimo the Elder by Filippo Brunelleschi. It was one of Cosimo's
favourite foundations; Marsilio Ficino's Platonic Academy frequently
met in the loggia with its beautiful view towards the city. In the
church, Lorenzo's second son, Giovanni, was invested with the
Cardinalate in 1492; and here, in 1516, his third son, Giuliano, Duke
of Nemours, the best of the Medici, died. On the way up to Fiesole
itself is the handsome villa Mozzi, built for Giovanni di Cosimo de'
Medici by Michelozzo. It was in this villa that the Pazzi had
originally intended to murder Lorenzo and the elder Giuliano, but
their plan was frustrated by the illness of Giuliano, which prevented
his being present.

In Fiesole itself, the remains of the Etruscan wall and the old
theatre tell of the classical Faesulae; its Tuscan Romanesque Duomo
(of the eleventh and twelfth centuries) recalls the days when the city
seemed a rival to Florence itself and was the resort of the robber
barons, who preyed upon her ever growing commerce. It contains
sculptures by Mino da Fiesole and that later Fiesolan, Andrea Ferrucci
(to whom we owe the bust of Marsilio Ficino), and a fine terracotta by
one of the Della Robbias. From the Franciscan convent, which occupies
the site of the old Roman citadel, a superb view of Florence and its
valley is obtained. From Fiesole, towards the south-east, we reach
Ponte a Mensola (also reached from the Porta alla Croce), the Mensola
of Boccaccio's _Ninfale fiesolano_, above which is Settignano, where
Desiderio was born and Michelangelo nurtured, and where Boccaccio had
a podere. The Villa Poggio Gherardo, below Settignano, shares with the
Villa Palmieri below Fiesole the distinction of being traditionally
one of those introduced into the _Decameron_.

Northwestwards of the Badia of Fiesole runs the road from Florence to
Bologna, past the village of Trespiano, some three or four miles from
the Porta San Gallo. In the twelfth century Trespiano was the northern
boundary of Florentine territory, as Galluzzo--on the way towards the
Certosa and about two miles from the Porta Romana--was its southern
limit. Cacciaguida, in _Paradiso_ xvi., refers to this as an ideal
golden time when the citizenship "saw itself pure even in the lowest
artizan." A little way north of Trespiano, on the old Bolognese road,
is the Uccellatoio--referred to in canto xv.--the first point from
which Florence is visible. Below Trespiano, at La Lastra, rather more
than two miles from the city, the exiled Bianchi and Ghibellines, with
auxiliaries from Bologna and Arezzo, assembled in that fatal July of
1304. The leaders of the Neri were absent at Perugia, and, at the
first sight of the white standards waving from the hill, terror and
consternation filled their partisans throughout the city. Had their
enterprise been better organised, the exiles would undoubtedly have
captured Florence. Seeing that they were discovered, and urged on by
their friends within the city, without waiting for the Uberti, whose
cavalry was advancing from Pistoia to their support and whose
appointed day of coming they had anticipated, Baschiera della Tosa, in
spite of the terrible heat, ordered an immediate advance upon the
Porta San Gallo. The walls of the third circle were only in part built
at that epoch, and those of the second circle still stood with their
gates. The exiles, for the most part mounted, drew up round San Marco
and the Annunziata, "with white standards spread, with garlands of
olive and drawn swords, crying _peace_," writes Dino Compagni, who was
in Florence at the time, "without doing violence or plundering anyone.
A right goodly sight was it to see them, with the sign of peace thus
arrayed. The heat was so great, that it seemed that the very air
burned." But their friends within did not stir. They forced the Porta
degli Spadai which stood at the head of the present Via dei Martelli,
but were repulsed at the Piazza San Giovanni and the Duomo, and the
sudden blazing up of a palace in the rear completed their rout. Many
fell on the way, simply from the heat, while the Neri, becoming
fierce-hearted like lions, as Compagni says, hotly pursued them,
hunting out those who had hidden themselves among the vineyards and
houses, hanging all they caught. In their flight, a little way from
Florence, the exiles met Tolosato degli Uberti hastening up with his
Ghibellines to meet them on the appointed day. Tolosato, a fierce
captain and experienced in civil war, tried in vain to rally them,
and, when all his efforts proved unavailing, returned to Pistoia
declaring that the youthful rashness of Baschiera had lost him the
city. Dante had taken no part in the affair; he had broken with his
fellow exiles in the previous year, and made a party for himself as he
tells us in the _Paradiso_.

To the west and north-west of Florence are several interesting villas
of the Medici. The Villa Medicea in Careggi, the most famous of all,
is not always accessible. It is situated in the loveliest country,
within a short walk of the tramway station of Ponte a Rifredi. Built
originally by Michelozzo for Cosimo the Elder, it was almost burned
down by a band of republican youths shortly before the siege. Here
Cosimo died, consoling his last hours with Marsilio Ficino's
Platonics; here the elder Piero lived in retirement, too shattered in
health to do more than nominally succeed his father at the head of the
State. On August 23rd 1466, there was an attempt made to murder Piero
as he was carried into Florence from Careggi in his litter. A band of
armed men, in the pay of Luca Pitti and Dietisalvi Neroni, lay in wait
for the litter on the way to the Porta Faenza; but young Lorenzo, who
was riding on in advance of his father's cortège, came across them
first, and, without appearing to take any alarm at the meeting,
secretly sent back a messenger to bid his father take another way.
Under Lorenzo himself, this villa became the centre of the
Neo-Platonic movement; and here on November 7th, the day supposed to
be the anniversary of Plato's birth and death, the famous banquet was
held at which Marsilio Ficino and the chosen spirits of the Academy
discussed and expounded the _Symposium_. Here on April 8th 1492, the
Magnifico died (see chap. iii.). In the same neighbourhood, a little
further on in the direction of Pistoia, are the villas of Petraia and
Castello (for both of which _permessi_ are given at the Pitti Palace,
together with that for Poggio a Caiano), both reminiscent of the
Medicean grand ducal family; in the latter Cosimo I. lived with his
mother, Maria Salviati, before his accession to the throne, and here
he died in 1574.

Also beyond the Porta al Prato (about an hour and a half by the
tramway from behind Santa Maria Novella), is the Villa Reale of Poggio
a Caiano, superbly situated where the Pistoian Apennines begin to rise
up from the plain. The villa was built by Giuliano da San Gallo for
Lorenzo, and the Magnifico loved it best of all his country houses. It
was here that he wrote his _Ambra_ and his _Caccia col Falcone_; in
both of these poems the beautiful scenery round plays its part. When
Pope Clement VII. sent the two boys, Ippolito and Alessandro, to
represent the Medici in Florence, Alessandro generally stayed here,
while Ippolito resided within the city in the palace in the Via Larga.
When Charles V. came to Florence in 1536 to confirm Alessandro upon
the throne, he declared that this villa "was not the building for a
private citizen." Here, too, the Grand Duke Francesco and Bianca
Cappello died, on October 19th and 20th, 1587, after entertaining the
Cardinal Ferdinando, who thus became Grand Duke; it was said that
Bianca had attempted to poison the Cardinal, and that she and her
husband had themselves eaten of the pasty that she had prepared for
him. It appears, however, that there is no reason for supposing that
their deaths were other than natural. At present the villa is a royal
country house, in which reminiscences of the Re Galantuomo clash
rather oddly with those of the Medicean Princes. All round runs a
loggia with fine views, and there are an uninteresting park and
garden. The classical portico is noteworthy, all the rest being of the
utmost simplicity.

Within the palace a large room, with a remarkably fine ceiling by
Giuliano da San Gallo, is decorated with a series of frescoes from
Roman history intended to be typical of events in the lives of Cosimo
the Elder and Lorenzo the Magnificent. Vasari says that, for a villa,
this is _la più bella sala del mondo_. The frescoes, ordered by Pope
Leo X. and the Cardinal Giulio, under the direction of Ottaviano dei
Medici, were begun by Andrea dei Sarto, Francia Bigio and Jacopo da
Pontormo, left unfinished for more than fifty years, and then
completed by Alessandro Allori for the Grand Duke Francesco. The
Triumph of Cicero, by Francia Bigio, is supposed to typify the return
of Cosimo from exile in 1434; Caesar receiving tribute from Egypt, by
Andrea del Sarto, refers to the coming of an embassy from the Soldan
to Lorenzo in 1487, with magnificent gifts and treasures. Andrea's
fresco is full of curious beasts and birds, including the long-eared
sheep which Lorenzo naturalised in the grounds of the villa, and the
famous giraffe which the Soldan sent on this occasion and which, as Mr
Armstrong writes, "became the most popular character in Florence,"
until its death at the beginning of 1489. The Regent of France, Anne
of Beaujeu, made ineffectual overtures to Lorenzo to get him to make
her a present of the strange beast. This fresco was left unfinished
on the death of Pope Leo in 1521, and finished by Alessandro Allori in
1582. The charming mythological decorations between the windows are by
Jacopo da Pontormo. The two later frescoes by Alessandro Allori,
painted about 1580, represent Scipio in the house of Syphax and
Flamininus in Greece, which typify Lorenzo's visit to Ferrante of
Naples, in 1480, and his presence at the Diet of Cremona in 1483, on
which latter occasion, as Mr Armstrong puts it, "his good sense and
powers of expression and persuasion gave him an importance which the
military weakness of Florence denied to him in the field"--but the
result was little more than a not very honourable league of the
Italian powers against Venice. The Apples of the Hesperides, and the
rest of the mythological decorations in continuation of Pontormo's
lunette, are also Allori's. The whole has an air of regal triumph
without needless parade.

The road should be followed beyond the villa, in order to ascend to
the left to the little church among the hills. A superb view is
obtained over the plain to Florence beyond the Villa Reale lying below
us. Behind, we are already among the Apennines. A beautiful glimpse of
Prato can be seen to the left, four miles away.

Prato itself is about twelve miles from Florence. It was a gay little
town in the fifteenth century, when it witnessed "brother Lippo's
doings, up and down," and heard Messer Angelo Poliziano's musical
sighings for the love of Madonna Ippolita Leoncina. A few years later
it listened to the voice of Fra Girolamo Savonarola, and at last its
bright day of prosperity ended in the horrible sack and carnage from
the Spanish soldiery under Raimondo da Cardona in 1512. Its
Duomo--dedicated to St. Stephen and the Baptist--a Tuscan Romanesque
church completed in the Gothic style by Giovanni Pisano, with a fine
campanile built at the beginning of the fourteenth century, claims to
possess a strange and wondrous relic: nothing less than the Cintola or
Girdle of the Blessed Virgin, delivered by her--according to a pious
and poetical legend--to St. Thomas at her Assumption, and then won
back for Christendom by a native of Prato, Michele Dagonari, in the
Crusades. Be that as it may, what purports to be this relic is
exhibited on occasions in the Pulpito della Cintola on the exterior of
the Duomo, a magnificent work by Donatello and Michelozzo, in which
the former master has carved a wonderful series of dancing genii
hardly, if at all, inferior to those more famous bas-reliefs executed
a little later for the cantoria of Santa Maria del Fiore. Within, over
the entrance wall, is a picture by Ridolfo Ghirlandaio of the Madonna
giving the girdle to the Thomas who had doubted. And in the chapel on
the left (with a most beautifully worked bronze screen, with a lovely
frieze of cupids, birds and beasts--the work of Bruno Lapi and
Pasquino di Matteo, 1444-1461), the Cintola is preserved amid frescoes
by Agnolo Gaddi setting forth the life of Madonna, her granting of
Prato's treasure to St Thomas at the Assumption, and its discovery by
Michele Dagonari.

The church is rich in works of Florentine art--a pulpit by Mino da
Fiesole and Antonio Rossellino; the Madonna dell' Ulivo by Giuliano da
Maiano; frescoes said to be in part by Masolino's reputed master
Starnina in the chapel to the right of the choir. But Prato's great
artistic glory must be sought in Fra Lippo Lippi's frescoes in the
choir, painted between 1452 and 1464. These are the great achievements
of the Friar's life. On the left is the life of St. Stephen, on the
right that of the Baptist. They show very strongly the influence of
Masaccio, and make us understand why the Florentines said that the
spirit of Masaccio had entered into the body of Fra Filippo. Inferior
to Masaccio in most respects, Filippo had a feeling for facial beauty
and spiritual expression, and for a certain type of feminine grace
which we hardly find in his prototype. The wonderful figure of the
dancing girl in Herod's banquet, and again her naïve bearing when she
kneels before her mother with the martyr's head, oblivious of the
horror of the spectators and merely bent upon showing us her own sweet
face, are characteristic of Lippo, as also, in another way, his
feeling for boyhood shown in the little St. John's farewell to his
parents. The Burial of St. Stephen is full of fine Florentine
portraits in the manner of the Carmine frescoes. The dignified
ecclesiastic at the head of the clergy is Carlo dei Medici, the
illegitimate son of Cosimo. On the extreme right is Lippo himself.
Carlo looks rather like a younger, more refined edition of Leo X.

It was while engaged upon these frescoes that Lippo Lippi was
commissioned by the nuns of Santa Margherita to paint a Madonna for
them, and took the opportunity of carrying off Lucrezia Buti, a
beautiful girl staying in the convent who had sat to him as the
Madonna, during one of the Cintola festivities. Lippo appears to have
been practically unfrocked at this time, but he refused the
dispensation of the Pope who wished him to marry her legally, as he
preferred to live a loose life. Between the station and the Duomo you
can see the house where they lived and where Filippino Lippi was born.
Opposite the convent of Santa Margherita is a tabernacle containing a
wonderfully beautiful fresco by Filippino, a Madonna and Child with
Angels, adored by St. Margaret and St. Catherine, St. Antony and St.
Stephen. All the faces are of the utmost loveliness, and the
Catherine especially is like a foretaste of Luini's famous fresco at
Milan. In the town picture gallery there are four pictures ascribed to
Lippo Lippi--all four of rather questionable authenticity--and one by
Filippino, a Madonna and Child with St. Stephen and the Baptist,
which, although utterly ruined, appears to be genuine. The Protomartyr
and the Precursor seem always inseparable throughout the faithful
little city of the Cintola.

Prato can likewise boast some excellent terracotta works by Andrea
della Robbia, both outside the Duomo and in the churches of Our Lady
of Good Counsel and Our Lady of the Prisons. This latter church, the
Madonna delle Carceri, reared by Giuliano da San Gallo between 1485
and 1491, is perhaps the most beautiful and most truly classical of
all Early Renaissance buildings in Tuscany.

Ten miles beyond Prato lies Pistoia, at the very foot of the
Apennines, the city of Dante's friend and correspondent, Messer Cino,
the poet of the golden haired Selvaggia, he who sang the dirge of
Caesar Henry; the centre of the fiercest faction struggles of Italian
history. It was the Florentine traditional policy to keep Pisa by
fortresses and Pistoia by factions. It lies, however, beyond the scope
of the present book, with the other Tuscan cities that owned the sway
of the great Republic. San Gemignano, that most wonderful of all the
smaller towns of Tuscany, the city of "the fair towers," of Santa Fina
and of the gayest of mediæval poets, Messer Folgore, comes into
another volume of this series.

But it is impossible to conclude even the briefest study of Florence
without a word upon that Tuscan Earthly Paradise, the Casentino and
upper valley of the Arno, although it lies for the most part not in
the province of Florence but in that of Arezzo. It is best reached by
the diligence which runs from Pontassieve over the Consuma Pass--where
Arnaldo of Brescia, who lies in the last horrible round of Dante's
Malebolge, was burned alive for counterfeiting the golden florins of
Florence--to Stia.[57] A whole chapter of Florentine history may be
read among the mountains of the Casentino, writ large upon its castles
and monasteries. If the towers of San Gemignano give us still the
clearest extant picture of the life led by the nobles and magnates
when forced to enter the cities, we can see best in the Casentino how
they exercised their feudal sway and maintained for a while their
independence of the burgher Commune. The Casentino was ruled by the
Conti Guidi, that great clan whose four branches--the Counts of
Romena, the Counts of Porciano, the Counts of Battifolle and Poppi,
the Counts of Dovadola (to whom Bagno in Romagna and Pratovecchio here
appear to have belonged)--sprang from the four sons of Gualdrada,
Bellincion Berti's daughter. Poppi remains a superb monument of the
power and taste of these "Counts Palatine of Tuscany"; its palace on a
small scale resembles the Palazzo Vecchio of Florence. Romena and
Porciano, higher up stream, overhanging Pratovecchio and Stia, have
been immortalised by the verse and hallowed by the footsteps of Dante
Alighieri. Beneath the hill upon which Poppi stands, an old bridge
still spans the Arno, upon which the last of the Conti Guidi, the
Count Francesco, surrendered in 1440 to the Florentine commissary,
Neri Capponi. After the second expulsion of the Medici from Florence,
Piero and Giuliano for some time lurked in the Casentino, with
Bernardo Dovizi at Bibbiena.

  [57] The lover of Florentine history cannot readily tear himself away
  from the Casentino. The Albergo Amorosi at Bibbiena, almost at the
  foot of La Verna, makes delightful headquarters. There is an excellent
  _Guida illustrata del Casentino_ by C. Beni. For the Conti Guidi,
  Witte's essay should be consulted; it is translated in _Witte's Essays
  on Dante_ by C. M. Lawrence and P. H. Wicksteed. La Verna will be
  fully dealt with in the Assisi volume of this series, so I do not
  describe it here.

Throughout the Casentino Dante himself should be our guide. There is
hardly another district in Italy so intimately connected with the
divine poet; save only Florence and Ravenna, there is, perhaps, none
where we more frequently need to have recourse to the pages of the
_Divina Commedia_. With the _Inferno_ in our hands, we seek out Count
Alessandro's castle of Romena and what purports to be the Fonte
Branda, below the castle to the left, for whose waters--even to cool
the thirst of Hell--Maestro Adamo would not have given the sight of
his seducer sharing his agony. With the _Purgatorio_ we trace the
course of the Arno from where, a mere _fiumicello_, it takes its rise
in Falterona, and runs down past Porciano and Poppi to sweep away from
the Aretines, "turning aside its muzzle in disdain." There is a
tradition that Dante was imprisoned in the castle of Porciano. We know
that he was the guest of various members of the Conti Guidi at
different times during his exile; it was from one of their castles,
probably Poppi, that on March 31st and April 16th, 1311, he directed
his two terrible letters to the Florentine government and to the
Emperor Henry. It was in the Casentino, too, that he composed the
Canzone _Amor, dacchè convien pur ch'io mi doglia_, "Love, since I
needs must make complaint," one of the latest and most perplexing of
his lyrics.

The battlefield of Campaldino lies beyond Poppi, on the eastern side
of the river, near the old convent and church of Certomondo, founded
some twenty or thirty years before by two of the Conti Guidi to
commemorate the great Ghibelline victory of Montaperti, but now to
witness the triumph of the Guelfs. The Aretines, under their Bishop
and Buonconte da Montefeltro, had marched up the valley along the
direction of the present railway to Bibbiena, to check the ravages of
the Florentines who, with their French allies, had made their way
through the mountains above Pratovecchio and were laying waste the
country of the Conti Guidi. It was on the Feast of St. Barnabas, 1289,
that the two armies stood face to face, and Dante riding in the
Florentine light cavalry, if the fragment of a letter preserved to us
by Leonardo Bruni be authentic, "had much dread and at the end the
greatest gladness, by reason of the varying chances of that battle."
There are no relics of the struggle to be found in Certomondo; only a
very small portion of the cloisters remains, and the church itself
contains nothing of note save an Annunciation by Neri di Bicci. But
about an hour's walk from the battlefield, perhaps a mile from the
foot of the hill on which Bibbiena stands, is a spot most sacred to
all lovers of Dante. Here the stream of the Archiano, banked with
poplars and willows, flows into the Arno; and here, at the close of
that same terrible and glorious day, Buonconte da Montefeltro died of
his wounds, gasping out the name of Mary. At evening the nightingales
are loud around the spot, but their song is less sweet then the
ineffable stanzas in the fifth canto of the _Purgatorio_ in which
Dante has raised an imperishable monument to the young Ghibelline
warrior.

But, more famous than its castles or even its Dantesque memories, the
Casentino is hallowed by its noble sanctuaries of Vallombrosa,
Camaldoli, La Verna. Less noted but still very interesting is the
Dominican church and convent of the Madonna del Sasso, just below
Bibbiena on the way towards La Verna, hallowed with memories of
Savonarola and the Piagnoni, and still a place of devout pilgrimage to
Our Lady of the Rock. There is a fine Assumption in its church,
painted by Fra Paolino from Bartolommeo's cartoon. Vallombrosa and
Camaldoli, founded respectively by Giovanni Gualberto and Romualdus,
have shared the fate of all such institutions in modern Italy.

La Verna remains undisturbed, that "harsh rock between Tiber and
Arno," as Dante calls it, where Francis "received from Christ the
final seal;" the sacred mountain from which, on that September morning
before the dawn, so bright a light of Divine Love shone forth to
rekindle the mediæval world, that all the country seemed aflame, as
the crucified Seraph uttered the words of mystery--_Tu sei il mio
Gonfaloniere_: "Thou art my standard-bearer." To enter the precincts
of this sacred place, under the arch hewn out from between the rocks,
is like a first introduction to the spirit of the _Divina Commedia_.

     "Non est in toto sanctior orbe mons."

For here, at least, is one spot left in the world, where, although
Renaissance and Reformation, Revolution and Risorgimento, have swept
round it, the Middle Ages still reign a living reality, in their
noblest aspect, with the _poverelli_ of the Seraphic Father; and the
mystical light, that shone out on the day of the Stigmata, still
burns: "while the eternal ages watch and wait."

  [Illustration: FLORENCE]




   TABLE OF THE MEDICI

   GIOVANNI DI AVERARDO (GIOVANNI BICCI) 1360-1429, m. Piccarda Bueri.
                          ____________|______________________(continued below)
   COSIMO (Pater Patriae), 1389-1464, m. Contessina dei Bardi.
         _____________________________|________________
         |                     |                       |
   PIERO (il Gottoso)      GIOVANNI,                 CARLO,
   1416-1469,              1424-1463,                (illegitimate),
   m. Lucrezia Tornabuoni. m. Ginevra degli          d. 1492.
                           Alessandri.
      ___|______________________________________________
      |                    |           |                |
   LORENZO,             GIULIANO,    BIANCA,         NANNINA,
   (the Magnificent),   1453-1478.   m. Guglielmo    m. Bernardo
   1449-1492,               |           dei Pazzi.      Rucellai.
   m. Clarice Orsini.       |
      |                 GIULIO (illegitimate),
      |                 d. 1534,
      |                 (Pope Clement VII.)
    __|_____________________________________________________________
    |               |               |                   |           |
   PIERO,        GIOVANNI,      GIULIANO,           LUCREZIA,   MADDALENA,
   1471-1503,    1475-1521,     (Duke of Nemours),  m. Giacomo  m. Franceschetto
   m. Alfonsina  (Pope Leo X.)  1479-1516,          Salviati.   Cibo.
      Orsini.                   m. Filiberta of         |
        |                           Savoy.              |
     ___|________________             |               __|_____________
     |                   |            |              |                |
   LORENZO,           CLARICE,    IPPOLITO,[58]      MARIA,       FRANCESCA,
   (titular Duke      m. Filippo  (Illegitimate),   m. Giovanni  m. Ottaviano
   of Urbino),           Strozzi  1511-1535,        delle Bande  dei Medici.
   1492-1519,                     (Cardinal).       Nere.            |
   m. Madeleine de                                              Alessandro,
   la Tour d'Auvergne.                                          d. 1605,
        _|______________                                         (Pope Leo XI.)
       |                |
   ALESSANDRO,[59]    CATERINA,
   (Illegitimate),   1519-1589,
   d. 1537,          m. Henri II.
   m. Margherita       of France.
      of Austria.

   [58][59] _The parentage of Ippolito and Alessandro is somewhat uncertain. The
   former was probably Giuliano's son by a lady of Pesaro, the latter probably
   the son of Lorenzo by a mulatto woman._

   -----------continued from above
   ___________________
                      |
   LORENZO, 1395-1440, m. Ginevra Cavalcanti.
                      |
                PIERO FRANCESCO,
                d. 1467 (or 1476),
                m. Laudomia Acciaiuoli.
           _______________|_______
          |                       |
   LORENZO, d. 1503,          GIOVANNI, d. 1498,
   m. Semiramide Appini.      m. Caterina Sforza.
          |                            |
   PIER FRANCESCO,            GIOVANNI, ("delle Bande
   d. 1525,                   Nere"), 1498-1526,
   m. Maria Soderini.         m. Maria Salviati.
        __|__________________________    |____________
       |                |            |                |
   LORENZO,         LAUDOMIA,    MADDALENA,        COSIMO I.
   ("Lorenzino"     m. Piero     m. Roberto        (Grand Duke),
        or             Strozzi.     Strozzi.       1519-1574,
   "Lorenzaccio"),                                 m. Eleonora of Toledo
   1514-1547.                                         (and Cammilla Martelli)
                          _____________________________________|_____
                         |                  |           |            |
                   FRANCESCO I.,         GIOVANNI,   GARZIA,    FERDINAND I.,
                   1541-1587,            d. 1562.    d. 1562.   1549-1609,
                   m. Joanna of                                 m. Christina of
                      Austria (and                                 Lorraine.
                      Bianca Cappello).                          ______|
                        |                                        |
                      MARIA                                 COSIMO II.,
                      m. Henri IV.                          1590-1621,
                      of France                             m. Maria Maddalena
                                                               of Austria.
                                                                   |
                                                            FERDINAND II.,
                                                            1610-1670.
                                                                   |
                                                            COSIMO III.,
                                                            1642-1723.
                                                                   |
                                                            GIOVANNI GASTONE,
                                                            1671-1737.




CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX OF ARCHITECTS, SCULPTORS & PAINTERS

(_Names of non-Italians in italics_)


     ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS

     Niccolò Pisano (circa 1206-1278), 32, 254, 349.

     Fra Sisto (died 1289), 359.

     Fra Ristoro da Campi (died 1283), 359.

     Arnolfo di Cambio (1232?-1300 or 1310), 41, 65, 66, 146-149, 184,
       205, 211, 228, 231, 242, 248, 265, 269, 274, 333, 334, 372.

     Giovanni Pisano (circa 1250-after 1328), 32, 254, 416.

     Giotto da Bondone. See under Painters.

     Andrea Pisano (1270-1348), 65, 67, 225, 254, 255, 260-263, 408.

     Fra Giovanni da Campi (died 1339), 359.

     Taddeo Gaddi. See under Painters.

     Fra Jacopo Talenti da Nipozzano (died 1362), 359, 366.

     Nino Pisano (died 1368), 271.

     Andrea Orcagna. See under Painters.

     Francesco Talenti (died after 1387), 65, 67, 189, 260, 265, 266.

     Pietro di Migliore (middle of fourteenth century), 196.

     Alberto Arnoldi (died circa 1378), 264.

     Simone di Francesco Talenti (end of fourteenth century), 156,
       189, 190, 198, 203.

     Benci di Cione (latter half of fourteenth century), 156, 189,
       203, 216.

     Neri di Fioraventi (latter half of fourteenth century) 203, 216.

     Giovanni di Ambrogio (last quarter of fourteenth century), 157.

     Jacopo di Piero (last quarter of fourteenth century), 157.

     Piero di Giovanni Tedesco (end of Trecento), 216, 270.

     Niccolò di Piero Lamberti da Arezzo (1360?-1444?), 193, 216, 263,
       270, 272, 276.

     Nanni di Antonio di Banco (died in 1421), 97, 190, 193, 194,
       272-274, 276, 304.

     Jacopo della Quercia (1371-1438), 272.

     Bicci di Lorenzo. See under Painters.

     Filippo Brunelleschi (1377-1446), 80, 97, 222, 237, 242, 243,
       266, 269, 274, 289, 290, 291, 301, 325, 328, 347, 354, 363,
       377, 389, 409.

     Lorenzo Ghiberti (1378-1455), 11, 95, 97, 193, 195, 222, 232,
       255-258, 275-277, 329, 363.

     Bernardo Ciuffagni (1381-1457), 275, 276.

     Donatello, Donate di Betto Bardi (1386-1466), 76, 80, 97, 150,
       157, 190, 193-195, 209, 220, 221, 223, 232, 236, 237, 243, 253,
       263, 264, 270, 272, 274, 275, 277, 280-282, 286, 363, 371, 380.

     Michelozzo Michelozzi (1396-1472), 77, 80, 98, 150, 193, 242,
       253, 277, 284, 302, 310, 322, 327, 377, 402, 410, 412, 416.

     Luca della Robbia (1399-1482), 98, 193, 194, 195, 210, 223, 225,
       243, 263, 276, 277, 281, 288, 371, 402.

     Leo (Leone) Battista Alberti (1405-1472), 98, 328, 354, 359.

     Bernardo Rossellino (1409-1464), 98, 235, 236, 354, 361.

     Vecchietta (1410-1480), 222.

     Antonio Rossellino (1427-1478), 98, 224, 371, 402, 416.

     Desiderio da Settignano (1428-1464), 98, 225, 237, 243, 290, 349,
       371, 410.

     Antonio Pollaiuolo (1429-1498), 87, 98, 99, 167, 168, 175, 222,
       224, 280, 281, 395.

     Mino da Fiesole (1431-1484), 82, 98, 212, 225, 242, 410, 416.

     Giuliano da Maiano (1432-1490), 98, 416.

     Andrea Verrocchio (1435-1488), 11, 86, 98, 99, 150, 168, 174,
       195, 222, 224, 225, 280, 281, 292, 298, 318, 329.

     Matteo Civitali (1435-1501), 224, 225.

     Andrea della Robbia (1435-1525), 98, 223, 325, 329, 347, 354,
       355, 371, 418.

     Benedetto da Maiano (1442-1497), 98, 153, 224, 225, 235, 274,
       353, 365.

     Bertoldo (died 1491), 101, 222, 290, 298.

     Giuliano da San Gallo (1445-1516), 98, 330, 351, 389, 413, 414,
       418.

     Cronaca, Simone del Pollaiuolo (1457-1508), 98, 150, 230, 353,
       389, 398.

     Benedetto Buglione (1461-1521), 211.

     Caparra, Niccolò Grosso (worker in metal, latter half of
       fifteenth century), 353.

     Andrea Ferrucci da Fiesole (1465-1526), 220, 274, 410.

     Baccio d'Agnolo (1462-1543), 377, 389.

     Giovanni della Robbia (1469-1527), 98, 223, 238, 365, 371, 398.

     Andrea Sansovino (circa 1460-1529), 258.

     Baccio da Montelupo (1469-1535), 194.

     Benedetto da Rovezzano (1474-1552), 13, 219, 276, 349, 395.

     Giovanni Francesco Rustici (1474-1554), 255, 256, 325.

     Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564), 2, 101, 102, 137, 138,
       142-145, 151, 152, 162, 164-166, 183, 216, 219, 220, 223,
       225-227, 235, 258, 266, 275, 276, 282, 289, 291-296, 298,
       314, 315, 322, 339, 349, 385, 388, 397, 398, 401, 410.

     Jacopo Sansovino (1486-1570), 225, 275, 326.

     Baccio Bandinelli (1487-1559), 150, 152, 288.

     Francesco da San Gallo (1494-1576), 198, 291, 407.

     Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1571), 145, 150, 154, 157, 223, 284, 285,
       349.

     Raffaello di Baccio da Montelupo (1505-1566), 296.

     Fra Giovanni Agnolo da Montorsoli (1506-1563), 296.

     Battista del Tasso (died 1555), 200.

     Bartolommeo Ammanati (1511-1592), 154, 346, 379.

     Giorgio Vasari (1512-1574), 67, 87, 140, 145, 149, 151, 152, 155,
       160, 172, 231, 235, 275, et passim.

     Giovanni da Bologna (1524-1608), 145, 154, 157, 195, 216, 223,
       301, 325.

     Vincenzo Danti, (1530-1576), 216, 233, 255, 258.

     Bernardo Buontalenti (1536-1608), 199, 298, 375.


     PAINTERS

     Fra Jacopo, worker in mosaic (working in 1225), 249.

     Giovanni Cimabue (1240-1302), 66, 243, 244, 321, 361.

     Andrea Tafi, worker in mosaic (1250?-1320?), 249.

     Gaddo Gaddi (circa 1259-1333), 273.

     Duccio di Buoninsegna (circa 1260-1339), 361.

     Giotto da Bondone (1276?-1336), 32, 56, 65, 66, 67, 69, 163, 222,
       238-241, 242, 259-263, 265, 274, 298, 322, 323, 361, 366, 372,
       403.

     Simone Martini (1283-1344), 67, 163, 366

     Lippo Memmi (died 1356), 163.

     Pietro and Ambrogio Lorenzetti (died circa 1348), 67, 163, 323.

     Taddeo Gaddi (circa 1300-1366), 67, 189, 222, 241, 322, 341, 366.

     Bernardo Daddi (died in 1350), 67, 197, 238, 404.

     Giottino, Giotto di Stefano (died after 1369), 163, 226.

     Puccio Capanna (flourished circa 1350), 372.

     Maso di Banco (working in middle of Trecento), 226, 237.

     Pietro Cavallini (died circa 1360), 323.

     Giovanni da Milano (died after 1360), 67, 163, 323, 395.

     Leonardo Orcagna (born before 1308), 362.

     Andrea Orcagna (1308-1368), 11, 65, 68, 69, 156, 185, 189, 196,
       197, 210, 224, 264, 362, 363, 366, 367, 407.

     Agnolo Gaddi (died 1396), 67, 157, 163, 238, 242, 322, 416.

     Cennino Cennini (end of Trecento), 226.

     Spinello Aretino (1333-1410), 68, 370, 395, 402, 403.

     Gherardo Starnina (1354-1408), 391, 416.

     Don Lorenzo, il Monaco (1370-1425), 163, 178, 180, 308, 322, 350.

     Gentile da Fabriano (1370-1450), 321, 322, 396.

     Bicci di Lorenzo (1373-1452), 277, 329.

     Masolino (born circa 1384, died after 1435), 99, 391-395, 416.

     Masaccio (1401-1428), 74, 76, 95, 99, 102, 169, 318, 391-395,
       417.

     Fra Giovanni Angelico (1387-1455), 99, 167, 175, 176, 178, 181,
       183, 301-304, 306-310, 315, 316, 322, 328, 356, 409.

     Andrea del Castagno (1396?-1457), 99, 273, 327, 329, 335, 336.

     Domenico Veneziano (died 1461), 99, 180, 236, 335, 387.

     Paolo Uccello (1397-1475), 99, 163, 257, 273, 275, 366.

     Fra Filippo Lippi (1406-1469), 80, 99, 170, 175, 287, 290, 316,
       318-321, 333, 386, 390, 415-418.

     Piero della Francesca (1415-1492), 174.

     Neri di Bicci (1419-1491), 163, 396, 421.

     Benozzo Gozzoli (1420-1498), 79, 87, 257, 287, 288, 316, 330.

     Domenico di Michelino (working in 1461), 277.

     Francesco Pesellino (1422-1457), 227, 318.

     Alessio Baldovinetti (1427-1499), 163, 326, 364, 402.

     Antonio Pollaiuolo. See under Sculptors.

     Giovanni Bellini (circa 1428-1516), 162, 177.

     Andrea Mantegna (1431-1506), 165, 168, 176, 177, 183, 365.

     Andrea Verrocchio. See under Sculptors.

     _Hans Memlinc_ (circa 1435-1495), 177.

     Cosimo Rosselli (1439-1507), 100, 164, 326, 329, 330, 333.

     Piero Pollaiuolo (1443-1496), 164, 174.

     Luca Signorelli (1441-1523), 100, 164, 166, 174, 175, 320, 321,
       352, 387.

     _Hugo Van der Goes_ (died 1482), 330.

     Pietro Vannucci, Perugino (1446-1523), 165, 167, 168, 316, 319,
       321, 328, 389, 330, 336, 383.

     Alessandro Filipepi, Sandro Botticelli (1447-1510), 87, 89, 94,
       97, 100, 160, 168, 169, 170, 173, 174, 175, 178-181, 210, 279,
       291, 317, 318, 320, 321, 352, 365, 372, 379, 395.

     Domenico Ghirlandaio (1449-1494), 11, 74, 100, 101, 168, 174,
       181, 242, 272, 320, 323, 324, 326, 350, 351, 363, 364, 371,
       372.

     Francesco Raibolini, Francia (1450-1517), 165.

     David Ghirlandaio (1452-1525), 101, 364.

     Sebastiano Mainardi (died 1513), 222, 242, 364.

     Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519), 66, 99, 100, 101, 137, 138, 151,
       162, 169, 170, 174, 183, 256, 298, 318, 349, 386, 393.

     Filippino Lippi (1457-1504), 7, 14, 94, 100, 162, 169, 172, 173,
       212, 321, 352, 365, 387, 389, 392, 395, 417, 418.

     Lorenzo di Credi (1459-1537), 11, 100, 101, 168, 173, 174, 175,
       210, 277, 321, 409.

     Piero di Cosimo (1462-1521), 100, 101, 139, 164, 170, 210, 325.

     Lorenzo Costa (circa 1460-1535), 387.

     Raffaellino del Garbo (1466-1524), 321, 351, 389.

     Raffaellino di Carlo (1470-1516), 352, 389.

     Boccaccino da Cremona (died 1518), 386.

     Timoteo Viti (1469-1523), 382.

     Francesco Granacci (1469-1543), 101, 173, 298, 318, 395.

     _Albert Dürer_ (1471-1528), 165, 177, 324.

     Mariotto Albertinelli (1474-1515), 137-139, 171, 210, 320, 323,
       329, 387, 407.

     Michelangelo Buonarroti. See under Architects and Sculptors.

     Fra Bartolommeo (1475-1517), 137-139, 164, 167, 170-172, 183,
     301-303, 307, 309, 320, 321, 323, 329, 380, 383, 384, 387.

     Bernardino Luini (1475-1533), 165, 418.

     Morto da Feltre (1475?-1522?), 384.

     Giorgio Barbarelli, Giorgione (1477-1511), 162, 164, 167, 177,
       381, 384.

     Tiziano Vecelli, Titian (1477-1576), 162, 165, 167, 177, 178,
       253, 380, 381, 383, 384-386, 387.

     Giovanni Antonio Bazzi, Sodoma (1477-1549), 170.

     Dosso Dossi (1479-1542), 162, 383.

     Lorenzo Lotto (1480-1555), 384.

     Francia Bigio (1482-1525), 164, 324-327, 414.

     Raffaello Sanzio, Raphael (1483-1520), 138, 151, 152, 162, 164,
       165, 183, 258, 321, 335, 336, 352, 381-385, 393, 394.

     Ridolfo Ghirlandaio (1483-1561), 12, 153, 171, 381, 416.

     Sebastiano del Piombo (1485-1547), 164, 387.

     Andrea del Sarto (1486-1531), 138, 139, 142, 162, 169, 171, 182,
       318, 320, 324-328, 334, 352, 381-386, 414.

     Giovanni da Udine (1487-1564), 296.

     Fra Paolino da Pistoia (1490-1547), 323, 412.

     Giovanni Antonio Sogliani (1492-1544), 303, 409.

     Giulio Romano (1492-1546), 383, 384.

     Antonio Allegri da Correggio (1494-1534), 166, 167, 176, 253.

     Rosso Fiorentino (1494-1541), 223, 327, 329, 384.

     Jacopo da Pontormo (1494-1557), 144, 145, 172, 310, 327, 414,
       415.

     _Lucas Van Leyden_ (1494-1533), 165.

     Angelo Bronzino (1502-1572), 82, 145, 154, 170, 171, 182, 290.

     Michele di Ridolfo Ghirlandaio (1503-1577), 334, 372.

     Daniele Ricciarelli, da Volterra (1509-1566), 223, 227.

     Francesco Salviati (1510-1563), 153.

     Giorgio Vasari. See under Architects and Sculptors.

     Jacopo Robusti, Tintoretto (1518-1594), 162.

     Paolo Veronese (1528-1588), 241, 381.

     Taddeo Zuccheri (1529-1566), 275.

     Marcello Venusti (died circa 1580), 227.

     Alessandro Allori (1535-1607), 414, 415.

     Bernardo Poccetti (1542-1612), 303.

     Jacopo da Empoli (1554-1640), 227, 327.

     Guido Reni (1575-1642), 386.

     Cristofano Allori (1577-1621), 384.

     _Peter Paul Rubens_ (1577-1640), 152, 162, 382, 385, 386.

     Matteo Rosselli (1578-1650), 303, 386.

     Artemisia Gentileschi (died 1642), 387.

     Pietro da Cortona (1596-1669), 379, 380.

     _Justus Sustermans_ (1597-1681), 182.

     _Antony Van Dyck_ (1599-1641), 385.

     _Diego Velasquez_ (1599-1660), 386.

     _Rembrandt Van Rÿn_ (1606-1669), 162.

     Carlo Dolci (1616-1686), 352, 386.

     _Peter Lely_ (1618-1680), 387.

     Luca Giordano (1632-1705), 286.




GENERAL INDEX

  (_Names of Artists not included_)


     A.

     _Accademia delle Belle Arti_, 314-324.

     Acciaiuoli, Agnolo (bishop), 369;
       Agnolo (anti-Medicean), 85, 350;
       Niccolò (grand seneschal), 336, 407;
       Niccola (swindler), 398.

     Adimari, family, 58, 203, 204.

     Adimari, Boccaccio, 188, 203.

     Alamanni, Luigi, 371.

     Alberti, palace of the, 341;
       Benedetto degli, 402;
       Donato, 215, 216.

     _Albizzi, Borgo degli_, 208-210.

     Albizzi, Maso degli, 74, 76, 209-211, 350, 351.

     Albizzi, Rinaldo degli, 74-77, 209, 346, 356.

     Alighieri, family, 36, 37, 207, 208.

     ALIGHIERI, DANTE, 2, 5, 6, 8, 14, 15, 16, 21, 22, 24;
       his birth, 25, 32-37;
       his love, 38;
       at Campaldino, 39, 40;
       political life, 41, 43;
       priorate, 44, 45;
       exile, 46, 49, 50, 53, 54;
       death, 55;
       on the Florentine Constitution, 59, 60, 65, 66, 69, 70, 91,
         103, 112, 124, 199, 200, 203-206;
       his house and family, 207, 208; 215;
       in the Council of the Commune, 221;
       portrait in the Bargello, 221, 222;
       monument, 228, 235, 238-241, 243, 246, 248-250, 262, 274;
       picture of him in the Duomo, 277-279;
       portrait in the Biblioteca Riccardiana, 288;
       his letters, 292, 329, 333, 340, 342, 346, 355, 361-363, 368,
         379, 394, 397, 398, 405, 408, 412;
       with him in the Casentino, 419-422.

     Aldobrandini, Bertino, 406;
       Salvestro, 228.

     Alexander VI., Pope, 95, 113, 117, 123, 124.

     Altoviti, palace of the, 209.

     _Ambrogio, S._, 333.

     Amidei, family, 19-21, 346;
       tower, 346.

     Ambrogini, Angelo. _See_ Poliziano.

     _Annunziata, SS._, Piazza, 325;
       church and convent, 40, 127, 326-328.

     Antoninus, S., 10, 82, 197, 274, 301, 303, 304, 309.

     _Apostoli, SS._, 13, 347.

     _Appollonia, S._, 99, 335, 336.

     Argenti, Filippo, 204.

     Arts or Guilds, 17, 25-28, 38, 39, 42, 43, 61, 72, 73, 74, 78,
       184, 189-196.

     Athens, Duke of, 57, 58, 72, 149, 198, 221, 225, 226, 229, 369.


     B.

     _Badia_, 127, 211-213.

     Baglioni, Malatesta, 143, 360, 401, 406, 407.

     Baldovinetti, tower of the, 346.

     Bandini, Giovanni, 406.

     _Baptistery_, 7, 11, 246-259.

     Baroncelli, Bernardo, 279.

     _Bardi, cappella dei_, 239;
       _via dei_, 38, 376, 377.

     Bardi, family, 59, 375;
       Simone dei, 351.

     Bargello, office of, 42 (note), 215;
       former quarters of, 128, 134, 155, 215.

     _Bargello, Museo Nazionale_, (Palazzo del Podestà), 214-225.

     Battifolle, Counts of, 351, 419.

     _Belle Donne, Via delle_, 354.

     Benedict XI., Pope, 50, 304, 356, 369.

     Benevento, Battle of, 25, 32, 69.

     Beatrice, 36, 37, 206, 329.

     Benedetto da Foiano, Fra, 359, 360.

     Bellincion Berti, 16, 206.

     Bella, Giano della, 42, 43, 206, 215, 371, 376.

     Bello, Geri del, 208.

     _Belvedere, Fortezza_, 375, 403.

     _Biagio, S._ (S. Maria sopra la Porta), 28, 29, 200.

     "Bianchi e Neri," Whites and Blacks, 35, 43-50, 70, 215, 216,
       347, 348, 350, 351.

     Bibbiena, 419-422.

     _Biblioteca Laurenziana_, 102, 291, 292.

     _Biblioteca Nazionale_, 160.

     _Biblioteca Riccardiana_, 288.

     _Bigallo_, the, 65, 264.

     Bisticci, Vespasiano, 75, 81, 103, 237.

     _Boboli Gardens_, 388.

     Boiardo, 109.

     Boniface VIII., Pope, 41, 43-46, 269, 270, 273, 274, 356.

     Borgia. _See_ Alexander VI.

     _Borgo degli Albizzi_ (San Piero), 208-210.

     _Borgo SS. Apostoli_, 26, 37, 346, 347.

     _Borgo San Frediano_, 345, 395, 396.

     _Borgo San Jacopo_, 38, 375, 376.

     _Borgo Ognissanti_, 342, 371, 372.

     _Borgo Allegri, Via_, 66, 243, 244.

     Boccaccio, 31, 32, 55, 60, 61, 69, 70, 198, 204, 213, 248, 259,
       346, 347, 360, 410.

     Boscoli, P. P., 140, 141.

     Bracciolini, Poggio, 104, 274.

     _Brancacci Chapel_, 391-395.

     Browning, E. B., 244, 294, 388.

     Browning, Robert, 171, 288, 319, 380, 388, 407.

     Bruni, Leonardo, 103, 104, 208, 231, 236, 256, 325, 333, 421.

     _Buonarroti, Casa_, 226, 227.

     Buondelmonti, the, 346, 347.

     Buondelmonti, Buondelmonte degli, 19-21, 342, 407.

     Brunelleschi, Betto, 259.

     Burlamacchi, Padre, 311.


     C.

     Cacciaguida, 14, 16, 21, 49, 407, 411.

     Calimala, Arte di, 26, 28, 38, 195, 200, 253, 256.

     _Calimara_ (_Calimala_), 200.

     Calvoli, Fulcieri da, 215.

     _Calzaioli, Via_ (Corso degli Adimari), 183, 203-205.

     Camaldoli, 421.

     _Campanile_, 56, 67, 259-264.

     Campaldino, Battle of, 39-41, 420, 421.

     Cappello, Bianca, 297, 371, 413-414.

     _Cappella dei Principi_, 297, 298.

     _Cappella degli Spagnuoli_, 366-370.

     Capponi, Agostino, 140;
       Gino, 389;
       Gino (Marchese), 235;
       Luisa, 353;
       Neri, 79, 389, 420;
       Niccolò, 142, 143, 150, 377;
       Piero, 116, 119, 126, 286, 340, 377, 389.

     Captain of the People, 23, 27, 28, 42 (note), 155.

     Carducci, Francesco, 142.

     Careggi, 412, 413.

     _San Carlo_ (S. Michele), 203.

     _Carmine_. See _S. Maria del Carmine_.

     Casentino, the, 418-422.

     _Cascine_, 372, 373.

     _Castagna, Torre della_, 38, 207, 208.

     Castello, 413.

     Catherine of Siena, S., 32, 62, 273.

     Cavalcanti, family, 37, 50, 59, 203.

     Cavalcanti, Guido, 36, 37, 44, 45, 187, 188, 248, 259.

     Cerchi, the, 37, 43, 44, 205, 206;
       palace, etc., 205;
       Vieri dei, 40, 43.

     Certosa di Val d'Ema, 407.

     Certomondo, 421.

     Charlemagne, 12, 13, 347;
       Charles of Anjou, 25, 27, 28;
       Charles V., Emperor, 137, 143, 404, 413;
       Charles VIII. of France, 116-119, 121, 132, 224, 284, 342, 408.
       Charles of Valois, 45, 46, 348, 356.

     Cino da Pistoia, 418.

     Compagni, Dino, 32, 53, 70, 209, 351.

     "Colleges," the, 71.

     _Consuma_, 419.

     Conti Guidi, 206, 419, 420.

     _Corbizzi Tower_ ("Corso Donati's Tower"), 40, 53, 209.

     _Corsini Palace and Picture Gallery_, 352.

     _Santa Croce, Piazza_, 228-230;
       _Church and cloisters_, 230-243.


     D.

     Diacceto, Jacopo da, 371.

     Donati, the, 37, 43, 203, 206, 207;
       Corso, 37, 40, 43, 44-46, 49, 50, 53, 209, 333;
       Forese, 37, 333;
       Gemma, 37, 207;
       Gualdrada, 19;
       Lucrezia, 107, 230;
       Piccarda, 405, 406;
       Simone, 229;
       Sinibaldo, 188.

     _Duomo_, (see _Santa Maria del Fiore_);
       _Opera del_, 280-282.

     Domenico da Pescia, F., 131-135, 151, 159, 409.


     E.

     Eugenius IV., Pope, 77, 79, 310, 356.

     Executore, the, 42, 62, 155.


     F.

     Florence, _passim_.

     Faggiuola, Uguccione della, 50, 53, 55, 56.

     _Felice, S._, 388.

     _Felicità, S._, 377.

     Ferrante, King of Naples, 89, 93, 95.

     Ferdinand III., Grand Duke, 335, 382.

     Francis II., Grand Duke, 334.

     Ferrucci, F., 143, 340.

     Ficino, Marsilio, 81, 82, 104, 105, 108, 274, 275, 364, 409.

     Fiesole, 2, 5, 6, 12, 16, 17, 409, 410.

     Filipepi, Simone, 158-160, 280, 305, 308.

     Foiano. See _Fra Benedetto_.

     _Fortezza da Basso_, 339.

     _Francesco dei Vanchetoni, S._, 371.

     Frescobaldi, the, 59, 348, 375, 376;
       Piazza, 347, 376.


     G.

     Galileo, 182, 237, 404, 406.

     _Ghibellina, Via_, 24, 225-228.

     Gianni, Lapo, 1, 36, 65, 340.

     Giovanni Gualberto, S., 13, 398, 422.

     _Giovanni Battista, S._ See _Baptistery_.

     Girolamo, Fra. _See_ Savonarola.

     Girolami and Gherardini, Towers of, 346.

     Gonfaloniere, the office of, 41, 42.

     Gregory X., 340;
       Gregory XI., 62, 65, 401.

     Gonzaga, Eleonora, 167, 177, 383;
       Ferrante, 143, 406.

     _Guadagni, Palazzo_, 389.

     Guelfs and Ghibellines, 16-18, 21-27, _et passim_.

     Guido Novello, 24-27, 215.


     H.

     Hawkwood, John (Giovanni Aguto), 73, 273.

     Henry IV., 16;
       Henry VI., 19;
       Henry VII., 54, 55, 333, 369, Emperors.

     Hildebrand, Pope Gregory VII., 13.

     Hugh, or Hugo, Margrave of Tuscany, 14, 211.


     I.

     _Impruneta_, 407.

     _Innocenti, Santa Maria degli_, 326.

     _Innocenti, Spedale degli_, 325.

     Interminelli, Castruccio (Castracani) degli, 55, 56, 396.


     J.

     Julius II., Pope, 117, 136, 138, 165, 385.

     John XXIII., Pope, 75, 253.

     _Jacopo in Ripoli, S._, 371.

     _Jacopo Oltrarno, S._, 376.


     L.

     Ladislaus, King of Naples, 75.

     _Lambertesca, Via_, 37, 346.

     Lamberti, family, 23.

     Lamberti, Mosca degli, 20, 22.

     Landini, Cristoforo, 105, 364.

     Landucci, Luca, 118, 122, 123, 128, 134, 205, 348, 390, 396.

     Lane, Arte della, 28, 38, 72, 193, 195, 199, 262, 265.

     La Lastra, affair of, 411, 412.

     _Leonardo in Arcetri, S._, 404.

     _Lorenzo, San, Piazza_, 288;
       _Basilica_, 289, 290;
       _Sagrestia Vecchia_, 290, 291;
       _cloisters and Biblioteca_, 291, 292;
       _Sagrestia Nuova_, 292-296;
       _Cappella dei Principi_, 297.

     St Louis IX. of France, 239, 240.

     _Lungarno_, 340-345.

     Latini, Brunetto, 6, 36.

     Latino, Cardinal, 355, 356.

     Leo X., Pope. See _Dei Medici, Giovanni di Lorenzo_.

     Leopold I. and II., Grand Dukes, 335.

     _Loggia dei Lanzi_, 65, 156-160.

     _Loggia di San Paolo_, 354.


     M.

     Machiavelli, Niccolò, 35, 59, 89, 91, 109, 137, 141, 142, 204,
       235, 377, 378.

     _Malcontenti, Via dei_, 243, 244.

     Manetti, Giannozzo, 104, 274.

     Manfredi, 24, 25.

     Mannelli, the, 375.

     _Marco, S._, 81, 82, 93;
       the church of 298-302;
       the convent, 302-313.
       See also Savonarola.

     _Margherita, S., a Montici_, 406.

     _Margherita, S._ (at Prato), 417.

     _Maria, S., degli Angioli_, 328, 329.

     _Maria S., delle Carceri_ (in Prato), 418.

     _Maria, S., del Carmine_, 390-396.

     _Maria, S., del Fiore_ (S. Reparata, the Duomo), 10-12, 65, 118,
       265-282.

     _Maria, S., Novella_, 50, 65, 354-370;
       _Spezeria di_, 370.

     _Maria, S., Nuova_, 329, 330.

     _Maria Maddalena, S., de' Pazzi_, 330.

     _Maria, S., del Sasso_ (at Bibbiena), 422.

     Marignolli, Rustico, 23.

     Mars, temple and statue of, 7-9, 20, 21, 246-248, 342, 365.

     Marsili, Fra Luigi, 390.

     Marsuppini, Carlo, 104, 237.

     Martelli, Cammilla, 297;
       Ludovico, 406.

     Martin, V., Pope, 75, 253.

     Matilda, Countess, 14-16.

     MEDICI, family:
       head the people, 59;
       their first expulsion, 77;
       their second expulsion, 117;
       their return, 140;
       third expulsion, 142;
       apotheosis, 181;
       their Austrian successors, 335.

     ---- gardens (_Casino Mediceo_), 298.

     ---- palaces. See _Pitti_, _Riccardi_, _Palazzo Vecchio_.

     ---- villas, 410, 412-415.

     MEDICI (DEI), Alessandro, 142-144, 245, 284-286, 293, 295, 339,
       353, 380, 381, 404, 413.

     ---- Antonio, 204.

     ---- Bianca, 92.

     ---- Carlo, 417.

     ---- Caterina, 141, 227, 228, 294.

     ---- Clarice, 142, 284, 286, 353.

     ---- COSIMO THE ELDER (Pater Patriae):
       leads opposition to the Ottimati, 74, 76;
       banished and recalled, 77;
       home policy, 78, 79;
       foreign policy, 79, 80;
       private life, patronage of art and letters, 80, 81;
       death, 82;
       portraits, 171, 172, 180; 232, 242, 253, 284;
       in Gozzoli's fresco, 287;
       tomb and monument in San Lorenzo, 290, 291;
       founder of San Marco, 302, 304;
       his cell and portrait there, 310;
       founds library of San Marco and Badia of Fiesole, 310, 409;
       dies at Careggi, 412;
       fresco in his honour at Poggio a Caiano, 414.

     ---- Cosimo I., first Grand Duke, 144, 150, 154, 157, 160, 172,
       173, 182, 286, 293, 295-297, 328, 339, 349, 353.

     ---- Cosimo II., fourth Grand Duke, 297, 298.

     ---- Cosimo III., sixth Grand Duke, 297, 298.

     ---- Ferdinand I., Cardinal, and third Grand Duke, 155, 297, 298,
       375, 413.

     ---- Ferdinand II., fifth Grand Duke, 283, 277, 298.

     ---- Francesco, second Grand Duke, 150, 297, 349, 413, 415.

     ---- Garzia, 170, 154, 182.

     ---- Giovanni (son of Cosimo I.), 182.

     ---- Giovanni di Averardo (Giovanni Bicci), 74, 76, 163, 182,
       289, 290.

     ---- Giovanni di Cosimo, 82, 86, 181, 225, 291, 410.

     ---- Giovanni di Lorenzo (Cardinal, afterwards Pope Leo X.), 92,
       94, 117, 140, 141, 204, 205, 289, 291, 292, 293, 342, 385, 404,
       405, 410, 414, 415, 417.

     ---- Giovanni di Piero Francesco, 94, 142, 173.

     ---- Giovanni delle Bande Nere 142, 144, 173, 225, 288, 297, 340.

     ---- Giovanni Gastone, seventh Grand Duke, 298, 335.

       Giuliano di Piero (the Elder), 86-88, 93, 94, 106, 181, 230,
         279, 291, 296, 387, 410.
       Giuliano di Lorenzo (Duke of Nemours), 94, 117, 140, 141, 143,
         209, 225, 293-295, 334, 380, 410, 420.
       Giulio (Cardinal, afterwards Clement VII.), 94, 141-143, 152,
         228, 284, 285, 289, 291-293, 359, 371, 381, 382, 397,
         413-414.
       Ippolito (Cardinal), 142, 143, 284, 286, 353, 380, 381, 413.
       Lorenzo di Giovanni, 76, 77, 302.
       LORENZO (THE MAGNIFICENT):
         his youth, 82, 85, 86;
         succeeds his father, 86;
         his portraits, 87;
         wounded in the Pazzi conspiracy, 88;
         his struggle with Naples and Rome, 89;
         his government, 89, 90;
         character, 91;
         last days and death, 92, 93;
         his sons, 94;
         his circle, 104, 105;
         his poetry, 107, 108;
         love for Pico, 109; 112, 150, 164, 172, 181;
         his tournaments, 229, 230; 235, 279;
         his palace, 284, 287;
         his tomb and remains, 291, 293, 296, 318, 327, 350, 353, 379,
           389;
         saved his father's life, 412;
         death at Careggi, 413;
         his villa of Poggio a Caiano, 413-415.
       Lorenzo di Piero, the younger (titular Duke of Urbino),
         141-143, 284, 293-295, 353.
       Lorenzo di Piero Francesco, the elder, 94, 143, 173 (note).
       Lorenzo, called Lorenzino or Lorenzaccio, 143, 144, 173,
         284-286, 405.
       Maria, 170
       Nannina, 354.
       Ottaviano, 385, 414.
       Piero Francesco, the elder, 94, 173.
       Piero Francesco, the younger, 173.
       Piero di Cosimo ("il Gottoso"), 82, 85, 86, 181, 225, 287, 291,
         326, 327, 378, 402.
       Piero di Lorenzo, 93-95, 106, 116, 117, 121, 123, 124, 127,
         128, 140, 141, 170, 284, 334, 405, 420.
       Salvestro, 71-73.
       Vieri, 74.

     Medici e Speziali, Guild of, 28, 38, 194, 198, 221.

     _Mercato Nuovo_, 200, 203.

     _Mercato Vecchio_, 7, 199, 200.

     _Michele, S., in Orto_. See _Or San Michele_.

     Michele di Lando, 72, 73.

     _Miniato, S., hill_ of, 1, 2, 398-401.

     _Miniato al Monte, S._, 13, 398, 401, 403.

     Misericordia, Confraternity of, 264.

     Montaperti, Battle of, 23, 24.

     Montefeltro, Buonconte da, 40, 421.

     Montefeltro, Federigo da (Duke of Urbino), 174.

     _Monticelli, convent_, 405.

     Mozzi, the, 342, 375;
       Piazza dei, 377;
       villa, 410.

     _Murate, le_, 227, 228.


     N.

     Nerli, the, 375, 376.

     Neri. _See_ Bianchi.

     Nero, Bernardo del, 128, 155.

     Neroni, Dietisalvi, 85, 412.

     Niccoli, Niccolò, 102, 103, 291.

     _Niccolò, S._, 396, 397.

     Nori, Francesco, 235, 279.

     Nardi, Jacopo, 72, 135, 228.


     O.

     _Ognissanti_, 371-372.

     _Oltrarno_ (Sesto di, afterwards Quartiere di Santo Spirito),
       18-19, 374, 396.

     _Onofrio, S._, 336.

     Orange, Prince of, 143, 228, 397.

     Ordinances of Justice, 41-43, 71, 221.

     _Or San Michele_, 65, 66, 184-199.

     Orlandi, Guido, 187, 188.

     Orsini, Alfonsina, 118, 141;
       Clarice, 86;
       Napoleone, 50.

     _Orti Oricellari_, 370, 371.

     Otto della Guerra, 62.


     P.

     _Palazzo Vecchio (della Signoria)_, 41, 65, 72, 78, 79, 146-154.

     Palmieri, Matteo, 210, 224.

     _Pandolfini, Palazzo_, 335.

     Parte Guelfa, 28, 44, 62, 71, 74, 195, 232;
       Palace of, 28-31, 200.

     Passavanti, Fra Jacopo, 70, 359, 366.

     Passerini, Cardinal, 142.

     Pater, Walter, 71, 166, 169, 178, 179, 224, 240.

     Pazzi, conspiracy, 88, 89, 93 (note), 103, 155, 181, 279, 410;
       carro dei, 279;
       cappella dei, 243;
       family, 59, 347;
       palaces, 209.

     Pazzi (dei), Francesco, 279;
       Jacopo, 89, 243;
       Guglielmo, 85;
       Pazzino, 53;
       Piero, 103.

     Pecora, 43.

     _Peruzzi, Piazza dei_, 7, 341 (note);
       _Cappella dei_, 240, 241.

     Peter Igneus, 13.

     Petracco, 50.

     Petrarca, Francesco, 32, 50, 55, 61, 69, 81, 405.

     _Piazzale Michelangelo_, 398.

     Pico della Mirandola, 92, 108, 109, 170, 301.

     _Piero Maggiore, S., Piazza di_, 53, 59, 209, 210.

     Pistoia, 418.

     Pitti, Luca, 85, 375, 377, 378, 412.

     _Pitti, Palazzo and R. Galleria_, 377-388.

     Podestà, office of, 19, 23, 27, 28, 214.

     _Podestà, Palazzo del_. See _Bargello_.

     _Poggio a Caiano_, 413-415.

     _Poggio Imperiale_, 405, 406.

     Poliziano, Angelo, 87, 92, 93, 106-108, 178, 181, 227, 298, 301,
       364, 415.

     Pulci, Luigi, 106.

     _Ponte alla Carraia_, 342, 345, 346:
       _Ponte alle Grazie (Rubaconte)_, 340, 341, 375, 377, 398;
       _Ponte S. Trinità_, 342, 346, 348, 350;
       _Ponte Vecchio_, 20, 341, 342, 375.

     Poppi, 419, 420.

     _Popolo, Primo_, 23, 24, 214;
       _Secondo_, 27, 28, 31, 35, 41, 42, 146.

     Porciano, 419, 420.

     Ponte a Mensola, 410.

     _Porta alla Croce_, 53, 333, 334;
       _Porta San Frediano_, 67, 408;
       _Porta San Gallo_, 334;
       _Porta San Giorgio_, 403, 404;
       _Porta San Miniato_, 403;
       _Porta San Niccolò_, 25, 396, 397;
       _Porta al Prato_, 334, 371, 372;
       _Porta Romana_, 377, 404, 405, 407.

     Por S. Maria, Via, 346.

     Portinari, the, 206, 207;
       Beatrice, 37, 206;
       Folco, 206, 329;
       Manetto, 206, 207;
       Tommaso, 330.

     Prato, 415-418.

     Pratovecchio, 419.


     Q.

     _Quaratesi, Palazzo_ (De Rast), 209.


     R.

     _Reparata, S._ See _S. Maria del Fiore_.

     Ricci, the, 62;
       Marietta dei, 406.

     _Riccardi, Palazzo_, 78, 79, 87, 98, 118, 283-288.

     _Riccardiana, Biblioteca_, 288.

     Ripoli, Piano di, 397.

     Rossi, the, 59, 376, 376.

     Robert, King of Naples, 54, 55, 225, 245.

     Romena, 419, 420.

     Rovere, Cardinal della. _See_ Julius II.

     Rovere, Francesco Maria, 167, 177.

     Rucellai, Bernardo, 85, 353, 354.

     _Rucellai, Palazzo, Loggia, Cappella_, 353, 354;
       chapel in _S. Maria Novella_, 361;
       _gardens_, 370, 371.

     Ruskin, _passim_.


     S.

     Sacchetti, Franco, 32, 65, 70, 71, 199;
       family of, 208.

     _S. Salvi_, 54, 333, 334.

     Salviati, house of, 207;
       Abp, 88;
       Marcuccio, 158, 159;
       Maria, 142, 413.

     _S. Salvadore al Monte_, 398.

     SAVONAROLA, FRA GIROLAMO.
       At the death-bed of Lorenzo, 92, 93, 108;
       friendship with Pico, 109;
       earlier life, 111;
       commences his mission, 112;
       his visions of the Two Crosses and the Sword, 113-115;
       during the French invasion, 116, 117, 119;
       guides the Republic, 119, 120;
       his vision of the Lilies, 121;
       his reformation of Florence, 121-123;
       struggle with the Pope begins, 123, 124;
       denounces corruption, 124-126;
       is excommunicated, 127;
       his orthodoxy, 128;
       returns to the pulpit, 128;
       promises miracles, 129;
       his last sermon, 129, 130;
       appeals to Christendom against the Pope, 130;
       the Ordeal by Fire, 131, 132, 157-160;
       his capture, 132-133;
       is tortured, 133-134;
       his martyrdom, 134-136;
       prophecies fulfilled, 136, 145;
       his discourse to the Signoria, 151;
       his prayer and meditations, 153, 154;
       medal and picture of, 224, 352;
       sermons in the Duomo, 280;
       in San Marco, 298, 301-303, 305, 307-309;
       on the night of Palm Sunday, 310-313;
       his portrait, 323.

     Salutati, Coluccio, 390.

     _Scalzo, Chiostro dello_, 324.

     Scolari, Filippo (Pippo Spano), 329, 336.

     Seta, Arte della (Arte di Por S. Maria), 28, 38, 189, 194, 318, 325.

     Settignano, 410.

     Sforza, Caterina, 142, 173, 227;
       Francesco, 78, 79, 82;
       Galeazzo Maria, 82, 86-88, 168;
       Ludovico, 90, 95, 121, 124, 136, 137.

     Shelley, 2, 105, 169, 220, 373.

     _Signoria, Palazzo della_. See _Palazzo Vecchio_.

     _Signoria, Piazza della_, 118, 135, 136, 146, 154-160.

     Silvestro, Fra, 92, 133, 135, 151.

     Sixtus IV., Pope, 88-90, 93.

     Soldanieri, Gianni dei, 26.

     _Spini, Palazzo_, 348.

     Spini, Doffo, 123, 131, 133, 158-160;
       Geri, 348.

     _Spirito, S._, 70, 87, 127, 389-390.

     _Stefano, S._ (in the Via Por S. Maria), 20, 346.
       See also _Badia_.

     Stia, 419.

     _Stinche, Le_ (Teatro Pagliano), 226.

     _Strozzi, Palazzo_, 15, 85, 97, 98, 352, 353.

     _Strozzi, Cappella_, 68, 361-363.

     Strozzi, Filippo, the elder, 85, 352, 365;
       Filippo, the younger, 142, 144, 284, 339, 353;
       Palla, 76, 81, 95, 104, 350, 351;
       Piero, 349, 353;
       Tommaso, 74.


     T.

     _Torrigiani, Palazzo_, 377.

     Tornabuoni, Lucrezia, 85.

     Tosa (della), Baldo, 376;
       Baschiera, 334, 411;
       Rossellino, 405;
       Rosso, 49, 50, 53.

     Traversari, Ambrogio, 329.

     Trespiano, 410, 411.

     _Trebbio, Croce al_, 22, 354.

     _Trinità, S._, church, 100, 349-351;
       piazza, 26, 44, 347-349.

     Towers, Societies of, 19.


     U.

     Ubaldini, 49, 232.

     Uberti, the, 17, 19-21, 23, 40, 62, 149, 411;
       Farinata degli, 24, 25, 36, 72, 149, 270, 336, 340;
       Schiatta degli, 20;
       Tolosato degli, 412.

     Uccellatoio, 411.

     _Uffizi, R. Galleria degli_, 160-183.

     Umiliati, Frati, 371.

     Urbino, Dukes of. _See_ Medici (Lorenzo), Montefeltro, Della Rovere.

     Uzzano, Niccolò da, 74, 76, 221, 256, 346, 377.


     V.

     Vallombrosa, 13, 421, 422.

     Valori, Baccio, 144, 225, 339, 406.

     Valori, Francesco, 126, 128, 132, 211, 212.

     Varchi, 228, 359, 381, 401.

     _La Verna_, 421, 422.

     Vespucci, Amerigo, 372.

     Villani, Filippo, 70, 390.

     Villani, Giovanni, 5-8, 32, 36, 69, _et passim_.

     Villani, Matteo, 70.

     Visconti, Filippo, 76, 80, 273, 289;
       Giovanni, 61;
       Giovanni Galeazzo, 75, 390.


     Z.

     Zagonara, Battle of, 76.

     _Zecca Vecchia, Torre della_, 245.

     Zenobius, S., 10, 11, 12, 152, 171, 210, 274, 276.


TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of Florence, by Edmund G. Gardner